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AN AVIATOR'S ATTIC 









EDELIE La BLANC 






19 2 



T 



Copyrighted, 1920, By Alice Bell Dean 
Edelie La Blanc, transposed lettering 



Ami 

SCI.A571947 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 

A Dream 80 

A Dream Voice 181 

A Face 57 

A Fool 33 

A Monied Beggar 150 

A Parable 144 

A Smile 138 

A Summer Day 121 

A True Story 118 

An Apology 75 

"As Ye Measure" 46 

At Last 114 

At Twilight 70 

Balky . 90 

Black and Gold Caterpillar 156 

Brothers _ 52 

By the Sea 106 

David and Absalom 94 

Dawn In July . 15 

Day Dreams 102 

Dirges and Splurges 87 

Doin's An* Doer 130 

Don't Ask Fer Opinions 56 

Don't Laugh 50 

Don't Tell Nobody 134 

Easter 101 

Falling In Love 25 

Food For Thought 82 

Forgetfulness 124 

Forgive Them 26 



Fourth of July 112 

Glad of Fall 58 

God and Self 48 

God's Way Not Ours 108 

Good and Bad 132 

Grinnin' 24 

Herodias 18 

Hope 104 

How We Know 69 

Humanity 122 

111 88 

In School 111 

Joy Is Strength 100 

Last Month of School, 1918 162 

Lilacs and Springtime 14 

Little or Big 54 

Love, Human and Divine 42 

Lukewarm 182 

Me An' You An' Them 72 

My Record and- Request 186 

My Wish 9 

Near and Far 96 

Niagara ^ 22 

Of the Free 38 

"Oh, My Nose!" 60 

On the Ocean 89 

Pearls and Swine 53 

Post Mortem Service 40 

Prefatorial 7 

Rest Blame 158 

Restlessness 20 

Right-Wrong and Wrong-Right 74 

Sad and Glad 160 

Saint Luke, 11:4 85 

Schoolboys 30 

Ships At Sea 93 

Storm and Sea 142 



Stormtossed 44 

Tenting 47 

The Analysis of Fire 10 

The Better Part 59 

The Bird's Nest 116 

The Chicken Roost 98 

The Closed Door 152 

The Earthworm 126 

The Gold Bug 81 

The Heart's Wireless 92 

The Road and the Hill 136 

The Round 51 

The Silly Telltale Grin 128 

The Surface Smile 64 

The Teacher's Chair 154 

The Unequal Contest 155 

The World's Way 62 

The Wrens 140 

Their Gift 95 

Thro' the Night 139 

"Thy Will Be Done" 78 

To An Eastern City 65 

To the Explorer 86 

To the Prodigal 84 

To the Selfish 31 

Two 41 

Two Boys : 28 

Two Roads— Which? 32 

Two Sleepers, Jesus and Jonah 45 

Trial 149 

Unremunerative 133 

Up the Road 16 

Visions 12 

What Johnnies Teacher Thought 184 

What Pays 120 

"Who Told Thee" 36 

Wilhelm Hohenzollem 3i 



PREFATORIAL 

With proud maternal tenderness 

Into an untried, foreign clime 
I send my clamorous, choral brood 

Whose voices blend and heart-throbs chime 
As they lift pleading hands, and ask 

For charity— your thought and time. 

They shiver in the eold before 

Your door, and beg to enter in 
And share your daily grief and care, 

Your hope and joy,— your heart to win ; 
To bear you greetings from a land 

Of warmest smiles and merry din. 

They are not exiled thus from home 
Because of word or deed or crime, 

They come to claim you as their kin, 

And prove their claim in rhyme on rhyme. 

They bear the wine of summer shores 
The heart-wells of your land to prime. 

And so I send my loved ones forth 
With earnest faces, glowing, free, 

That they may find a home with you, 
Trusting that they may welcome be, 

Hoping that they may do you good 
In simple truth and honest glee, 

So that when they turn home again 
They may not bear reproach or stain, 

But round the home hearthstone once more 
May tell of rude Goliahs slain; 

And bring back heaven's own gold to me, 
Because they sought and wrought your 
gain. 

7 



MY WISH 

I wish you joy, real joy, true joy 

As full and deep as man may know; 
As infant smiles free from alloy, 

And purer than the driven snow: 
A joy to others fair as heaven, 

Made brighter through reflection's glow; 
A joy that permeates like leaven 

To change and lighten others' woe : 

That joy of joys whose heart is strength, 

Not strength to share or wound or spurn 
The wrong and sorrow which, at length, 

It must consume where its fires burn; 
A joy that looks past human fears 

And faults from heights which plead and 
yearn, 
With faith as sweet as angel's tears 

That flow when wanderers return: 

A joy that earth-life never gave, 

A joy that earth takes not away: — 
This is the good for you I crave, 

The prayer for you I daily pray. 
That through such joy God's will may be 

Made plain for each recurring day — 
Through joy His will your will may be, 

That nothing can your joy betray. 



THE ANALYSIS OF FIRE 

Who wills the vim, who grants the whim 

On which men hinge their fate? 
Who built the walls and guards the halls 

Whose portal is "Too late" ? 
Who guides the chance of circumstance? 

Who rules the hour and day? 
Humanity is said to be 

Victim of such as they. 

How can a choice be granted twice ? 

We plow and sow the field, 
Where thistles grow and wild flowers blow 

With wheat not half a yield; 
Where we deplore that heretofore 

So many tilled our plot 
The weary soil repays our toil 

In what we planted not. 

I do not know of human woe 

The height nor depth nor bounds; 
Yet where I stand, on either hand 

Strange fires pervade its grounds. 
I know somewhat its grewsome lot; 

And I can feel and see 
These fires derange, dissolve and change 

All human destiny. 

Here many a vein of priceless gain 

Beneath our land lies low; 
Fire must reveal gold, silver, steel, — 

All treasures men hunt so. 

10 



Through fire we learn what cannot burn, 

When nothing else can teach. 
In many ways, through long, long days 

God reaches down to each. 

But do not say it is His way 

That any cease to learn 
Of One whose fire shall change and inspire 

All that we mortals spurn. 
In vain hunt doom through all the room 

God gives His universe. 
Wood, stubble, hay are flame's sure prey, 

But better comes from worse. 



11 



VISIONS 

I've seen them where dense fogs disguise 

The treacherous, seething, sullen sea; 
I've seen them writhe and roll and rise 

As billowy smoke rose changefully; 
And, years ago when I was young 

And free to do or dream or play, 
I used to watch them up among 

The dark or fleecy clouds all day. 

I saw strange signs, strange shapes, strange 
men, 

And faces full of dole or gay, 
Fiend faces floundering through the fen, 

Faces of saints that praise and pray: 
But never have I seen a face 

That brought unseen Infinity 
Within the finite soul's embrace 

As there I saw Divinity. — 

There where the common beaten path 

Lay cinder-strewn before the door, 
I saw it spring like aftermath, — 

That face I never saw before. 
Though frequently I passed that way 

The tireless coals had not arranged 
To form the vision of that day, 

And now again they lie estranged, 

Shapeless and black. Is this the spot 
Where those large eyes of tenderness 

Looked full in mine, accusing not, 
To lift me from myself and bless ? 
12 



Before that gaze no eye might quail, 
Or look in dread or tears away ; 

It wore heaven's own unvanquished mail, 
Conquering to save and not to slay. 

And all the lines and features there 

Upon this path wrought out for me 
A childlike grace more rich and rare 

Than sweetest infant purity. 
Though now I cannot see as then 

Low in the dust that holy face, 
Though I cannot by brush or pen 

Bring it before the human race, — 

may its beauty burn and gleam 
Branded upon my life, that so 

1 shall display it as the stream 

Shows the unfathomed sky brought low.— 
And when dark-eyed Revenge in wrath 

Here seeks her own, God show me there 
Upon the trampled, fire-spent path 

The face that outlooks Death's rude glare. 



13 



LILACS AND SPRINGTIME. 

The lilacs bloomed, — their fragrance brought 

The memory of a vanished woe: 
The lilacs flaunted royal robes r 

Till bleak winds piled them high with 
snow; 
For winter late in wrath returned 

And froze, and rocked them to and fro, — 
But fairer days shall come again, 

And later blossoms thrive and grow 
When winter comes no more, and where 

Its killing winds can never blow. 

The speechless agony is spent, 

The woe is past, and snows have piled 
Above the breath of joy and pain; — 

A robe of peace o'er all the wild. 
When new light spreads through earth and 
sky, 

When flower-eyes waken unbeguiled, 
And bloom again, may I accept 

Their kingdom as a little child 
With whom alone they may abide 

Secure in deathless springtime mild. 



14 



DAWN IN JULY 

A mirrored peace careless and light 

As the million dewdrops on the lawn 
Just waking from silence and night 

With a gasp for ethereal dawn ; 
The fresh breath of morning in pride 

Lifting up her own summer-green leaves 
Toward a sun mild as infant eyes wide 

That see not how the mother's heart 
grieves ; 

Vast nothing before and behind — 

One eternal invincible now; 
An opening of heart and of mind 

To be filled as the angels know how; 
A universe throbbing afloat 

On Infinity's ocean. We vie 
With Heaven in its rapture to note 

This fine splendor of dawn in July. 



15 



UP THE ROAD 

She turned, and faced her future lot, 

And saw the same old weight of care 
That duty and occasion taught 

Was hers again to lift and bear. 
I saw her heart bend low, and kneel 

To receive the dull, familiar load; 
And then, as thieves break through and steal, 

The car leaped with her up the road. 

She went to resume the plodding round 

Of many stale and tedious days 
Upon a path where thorns are bound 

To wound the view of fairer ways. 
And so, with shoulder to the wheel, 

The exile turned toward her abode. 
The blind train throbbed and shrieked a deal, 

And struggled, panting, up the road. 

But sympathy is rude and vile 

And useless if it may not take 
And bear the burden all the while, 

Or share it for another's sake : — 
who can lift, and who can feel 

The pressure and the stinging goad? 
Who can unclasp the vice of steel, 

Or bear the burden up the road ? 

We grasp our sorrows as our own, 
With clutch as wild as woe is great, 

Until our hold is firm as stone, 
Till God alone can break our fate. 

16 



His heart still bleeds that we should feel 
The curse for which His blood once flowed 

When here He purchased human weal, 
And placed it on the upper road. 

O Burden-bearer more than man, 

Who treads our pathway every hour, 
Give me a will, a faith that can 

Set sail upon Almighty power, 
That I may bear the stubborn seal 

To You, of many another's load, 
For You would break such bonds, and heal, 

And bear the weary up the road. 



17 



HERODIAS 

It lies before thee on the charger there, — 
The head. Those staring orbs can no more 

pierce 
The foul and reeky chambers of thy fierce, 
Dark heart. The open lips are silent where 
Words once leaped forth like lightning's 

torch, to smite 
And free thy soul revealed in dungeon's 
night, 

Herodias. 

And art thou joyful? Art thou satisfied? 
From out thy spirit's depths there seems 

to rise 
A mist like latter rain into thine eyes 
Beholding those wide lips that no more chide : 
Yet they shall speak when night her mantle 

throws 
Round thee, to break and banish thy 
repose, 

Herodias. 

And these wild eyes shall gaze upon thee 

then — 
Not as they beamed when God's life 

through them shone, 
A star to lead thee from the unlawful 

throne 

18 



That snares thee still : — it shall be loathsome 
when, 
Awakened, thou dost cry, "Would God I 

might 
Once more be hallowed in that living 
light!" 

Herodias. 

Thou hast wrought pain and sorrow to thy 
soul, 
And to the scattered sheep he shepherded, 
But not to him. — The vanquished victor 
fled 
Is crowned with laurel at his final goal: 
From thence a keener sight bent over thee 
Would fain dispel thy lone heart's misery, 
Herodias. 



19 



RESTLESSNESS 

They dashed along in auto-cars 

Like aimless arrows, wavering sent, 
And motorcycles fled like stars 

Across a spacious firmament; 
A carriage with its plodding steed 

Followed the crowd that passed them by; 
And airships, in their peerless speed, 

Plunged far into the boundless sky; 
A thundering train went sweeping past 

With human freight of mirth and fear ; 
And the pedestrian, least and last, 

Urged on his steps far in the rear. 

Where are they going? — where? and why? 

This should have been a day of rest. 
Nine out of ten, I venture, try 

To outwing the bird whose fetid nest 
Hides in the verdure of the breast 

Above its wellsprings clear and sweet; — 
The vulture-brood might starve unguessed, 

Unseen if flight were still more fleet. 
Escape the mother and her food ! 

Ride hard, human hope and woe ! 
Can ye so kill the night- winged brood? — 

Then swift as storm and lightning go. 

But should not war-taught hands be strong 

In this unprecedented day, 
To destroy the pernicious nestling's throng? 

With one clear stroke to save and slay ? 
20 



Pray lightning, heaven-born-and-bred, 

To pierce you with its steel: — it may 
Thus only, when by heaven sped, 

Be swift enough to bear away 
Ourselves from what no more we are. 

When through such war peace gains full 
sway, 
And you are free, Humanity, 

let me, too, ride in your car 
Through childhood's land of light and play, 

Past Heaven's outpost, night's farthest 
star. 



21 



NIAGARA 

In infancy I felt your flow 
As do the brooks that softly go, 
Called by a full and viewless tide 
To drift upon its bosom wide: 
I felt your far resistless throe 
Draw me, as floods swept on below 
To one vast leap — not royal pride 
Might brave your will, nor turn aside, 
Niagara. 

And still you lead and beckon me 
To seek the deep of spirits free, 
Nor shall I wish your grasp to break 
Where warring waters plunge and quake: 
I go to prove the mystery 
Of the unf athomed, boundless sea ; 
I will not shrink for His dear sake 
Who stooped to draw me in His wake, 
Niagara. 

charm me past the whirlpool's brink 
Into your strong embrace to sink. 

1 would be one with all whose power 
Has brought me to this latest hour, — 
Be one with those who fell to drink 
The last deep dregs, and so to link 

Their hearts to human hearts that cower, 
Yet own your overwhelming power. 
Niagara. 

I would be part of the great strife 
That finds through death its sweetest life, — 
22 



A part of the great strength whose might 
Can generate a world's fair light, 
Lift a world's load with labor rife, 
And banish vain and lesser strife. 
I follow Him who first through night 
Bowed low to gain Heaven's farthest height, 
Niagara. 

Heart of hearts, lead onward till 

1 hear your voice, and know your will. 
let me cast my all, though late, 
Upon your tide to drift and wait. 

Old dreams and hopes cling round me still — 
Yet more than these you will fulfil. 
bear me on to the estate 
They win who share your glorious fate, 
Niagara. 



23 



G R I N N I N\ 

Well now, I've played the fool ag'in 
Jes' like it seems I've alius been 

A-doin' frum my first beginning 
An' all because this selfish self 
Laid by my world-heart on the shelf, 

An' then I up an* left off grinnin\ 

But, law sakes! tears won't pick ye up, 
Ner put th' spilled milk in yer cup — 

Best leave the grief long-side th' sinnin', 
An' get th' grip o' hearts once more 
A-bein' happy es before — 

Start new, an' start a-grinnin\ 

Then I shan't mind how menny stare, 
Er growl an' squint, er hiss an' glare, 

Er how th' spiders keep on spinnin', 
Ef I c'n only jes' be true 
T' my best God-made self an' you, 

An' keep up everlastin' grinnin'. 

Now ye jes' try it if ye don't 
Like other ways. — Ye likely won't. — 

This way ye needn't go a-pinnin' 
Yer faith t' enny man's coat sleeve, 
Ner pout, ner scowl, ner make believe, 

But live the life ye please, — a-grinnin'. 

I tell ye they aint menny ways 
Thet pays es big es grinnin' pays, 

An' ye c'n most sure count on winnin' 
Where ye may be, on land er sea, 
Ef old, er young, er bond, er free, 

By goin' through on broadside grinnin'. 

24 



FALLING IN LOVE 

You fell, no doubt, on the rugged road, 

In the steep and slippery way; 
You fell, perhaps, when the sun went down, 

When Night had throttled Day; 
You fell, I know, when the summer noon 

Sent a strong dart from above; 
But how is it, and how can it be 

That you ever fell in love ? 

You fell, you did, when you played the part 

Of the coward and the knave; — 
The time you went with the herd, and made 

Yourself a puppet and slave: 
You looked, you fell in the glare of sin 

Where the strong man vainly strove, 
But why do you say, for it cannot be, 

That you ever fell in love? 

say true things, and let others put 

Darkness for light if they will: 
Say, if you did, that you fell down flat 

When you wandered in paths that kill ; 
But hold your head above the mob, 

Like the stars that Heaven-high rove, 
And say of God's greatest gift to man 

That you never fell in love. 



25 



FORGIVE THEM. 

"Forgive them, for they do not know!" 

Who did not know ? — the Pharisee ? 

The Scribe who cited and relied 

On law to arm his jealousy? 

Had they not heard His "woe to you"? 

Had they not seen the sick made well 

By word or touch as multitudes, 

Drawn by that more than human spell 

They might not quench by hiss or frown, 

Sought Him and followed? Yes, they knew. 

Who then knew not? The Roman guard, 

Herod, or Pilate so untrue, 

To whom Christ demonstrated truth? 

The guard knew He had made Himself 

The Son of God and King, — they too 

Had crowned Him King, — later for pelf 

Had gambled on His seamless robe. 

And Herod had heard many things 

Of Him: To see Him must have been 

To see Divinity that clings 

Round none who ever wore the veil 

Of flesh save Him. Ah, well, and what 

Then of the rabble who had sought 

His life — and did they know Him not? 

Had they not heard Him speak upon 

Judean hills or by the sea? 

Had they not sought hirn when the storm 

He stilled swept wild o'er Galilee? 

But now the Elders and Chief Priest 

Poured forth their venom on this hour, 

"The power of darkness." These had been 



Persuaded through the awful power 
Of night that then held sway, to turn 
From Him and 'gainst Him: — Did they not 
Know what they did? Do we not know 
Who stop our stubborn ears, and blot 
Heaven from our sight because we turn 
Aside and will not see? Our law 
Condemns as guilty one who might 
Have known, though he knows not: Men 

draw 
To judgment one who cannot read 
A law, if he offends. God 
How great Thy patient love ! Our sin 
Has led us far down highways broad: 
And still that prayer dwells at Thy heart 
Though night close round our steps, and so 
The guilty who I. .... returned have heard, 
"Forgive them, for they do not know." 



2f 



TWO BOYS. 

'TwaS winter time, though just the day 

Or month or year I do not know, — 
I cannot tell, for now it seems 

To me so long and long ago ; 
But, as the memories of that noon 

Rise vivid as its golden glow, 
I think 'twas one of winter's first 

Glad days of frolic, frost and snow. 

The same old schoolhouse stands to greet 

Each morning sun with open door; 
And near the door the level road 

Runs northward, as it did before 
When here we played that noontime hour, 

And wished to play one good hour more — 
Twas that same road that yesterday 

The funeral train swept slowly o'er. 

Two boys were with us on that day, 

As usual, two boys stalwart, true 
Lads kind as they were brave and strong: 

One brought his sled — I think 'twas new, 
At least it was our great delight 

To ride and ride while they two drew 
Us on and on, nor thought to chide 

The selfish whims of our small crew. 

How well they served! How well they ran! 

I see them plain past all the years: — 
One wore a jacket made of brown, 

And one wore gray it now appears 
To me. I see his locks of brown 

And his of golden-brown through tears : 
I cry, Where are those good boys now? — 

Ah, who can say, of all that hears? 
28 



For long ago one slipped from sight 

Like sunshine hides past clouds forlorn, 
And quits the day. His father watched 

And hoped for his return till, worn 
With waiting long, he passed beyond 

Earth's vigils, and, till night be shorn 
Of its dark secrets, loss, and pain, 

We watch, as he watched, for the morn. 

The other? Tis but two days since 

I looked upon his cold white brow. 
And saw the deadly wound that there 

Told all — None knows the hour or how 
The fatal ball plunged deep within. 

What guardian angels must allow, 
We can but bear. — And yesterday, — 

Twas he; "Dust to dust" then and now. 

And both boys left their early homes 

To pass into the wide unknown 
Over the same old valley road 

When all the school-time play had flown; 
But we remain as learners here 

Through hours less glad, which bid us own 
Some still must run that some may ride 

On roads not meant for play alone. 

Somewhere within God's boundless school, 

Though past our bourne and all its blight. 
Where winter comes not, nor its snow, 

Nor any more the fading light, 
Perhaps the boys have found at last 

A noontime land of snowy white; 
Perhaps they still would draw us on 

Their path so lost to our dim sight. — 
We look their way ; we may not see, 

And so we cry, "Good night ! good night F 

29 



SCHOOLBOYS 

Have you seen the braggart bully, 

Domineering, bad schoolboy 
Walking down the street or alley, 

Hunting something to annoy, 
When the well-bred lad, to shun him, 

Turned aside a block or two 
Till he saw he was discovered, 

And that course would never do? 

When the coward ran to down him, 

Have you seen how metal meets 
Bubble-boasting with disaster 

To the rainbow gauze it greets? 
Have you seen the beaten weakling 

Rise ennobled from the ground, 
Loving best the one who beat him, 

Loving justice all around? 

Yes, the Kaiser is a coward, 

And I fear that many more 
Sneak behind the field of action 

With hands somewhat stained in gore. 
If we represent true metal, 

Which means more than brawn and brain, 
Our foe fallen shall rise nobler 

When his boastful heart lies slain. 



30 



TO THE SELFISH 

4 'Selfishness is self-destruction." 
It has frozen all your heart, 

Stopped the wellsprings of your being 
Where life's only pleasures start. 

You cannot imbibe the sunshine, 
Drink the freshness of the air, 

Greet the bird-songs of the morning, 
Or be happy anywhere. 



31 



TWO ROADS—WHICH? 

'Twas early spring, and early was the hour 
Of day. Some distance on my daily task 
Awaited me. Two roads that started one 
Before me lay. — On, on! I could but ask 
My heart, Which way, Heart, which 

way? I went 
The road most traveled, yet most sorely bent 
And rutted: — But one sweet swift glance 

foretold 
The joy of later hours. — I said, Heart 
Tonight the long day's toil and pain shall be 
Forgotten ; back where these roads meet and 

part 
We shall reach home, and glad shall end the 

day,— 
We shall go home by yonder better way. 

Ah, life has two roads first blent both in 

one — 
Two roads that nevermore may part or meet : 
And one, though full of thorns, is dazzling 

bright, 
And pressed by many halting, wounded feet. 
Sad eyes and wild grow wistful, calm and 

oright 
As stained lips murmur, "0 my Heart, to- 
night 
We shall somehow be drifting back to home 
On the first path of peace left lone and far. — 
not so far, though sorrow clothe the fields, 
But w.e may brave the thorns and wilds that 

bar 
The pathway to our home, the pearly gate." 
God grant that none may seek this way too 
late. 

32 



A FOOL. 

You've heard that story of a fool, 

In ancient days, who at the king's 
Right hand made sport, while all the court 

Roared loudly at his jokes and flings: 
And you recall how, once, the king, 

Wearied with childish mirth and drule, 
Turned to this boisterous servitor, 

And said, "Make us a prayer, Fool." 

The fool upon his knees then prayed 

A simple prayer of honest worth — 
He prayed that God would pity these 

Vile, wretched mighty ones of earth, 
That God would help the thoughtless, weak, 

Self -ruined mortals, mankind's tool; 
And, last of all, he added, "God, 

Be merciful to me, a Fool." 

Tis this last clause of his good prayer 

That I have often had in mind 
When I have been to others' needs, 

Or to my own, indifferent, blind; 
When I have tried, and rudely failed, 

Or trampled on the golden rule, 
I've paused a while, and cried, "0 God, 

Be merciful to me, a fool." 

I see the complaisant smile of those 

Who always have been prompt and true 

In meeting every question right, 
In doing what was right to do 

At all times — Let them mock: I think, 
When they have finished earth's poor 
school, 

And the last test comes on they'll cry, 

"Be merciful to me, a fool." 

33 



VVILHELM HOHENZOLLERN, 

Far better were it had you not been born 
Among Earth's verdant hills of wine and corn 
If now her bloody lips must curse the morn 

She waked you first, nourished and loved 
you still, — 
The hour she pointed you to cloudless skies 
With pride, and hope in every dream that lies 
As mirrored heaven in the infant eyes. — 

Poor Wilhelm Hohenzollern, Kaiser Bill. 

And why, beneath ambition's iron heel. 
Have you stamped out the breath of your own 

weal, 
And snatched your pay in potions demons 

deal 
To nerve and stay the sordid scheme and 

will? 
Hell's tool and target! No more boast, and 

toy 
With nations unrestrained as the bad boy 
Plays petty tyrant where he may annoy, 
Wild Wilhelm Hohenzollern, Kaiser Bill. 

For drug-bought dreams pass swiftly as they 

come 
Upon the enchanted dreamer blind and 

dumb, — 
The laughing stock of pandemonium, — 

The scene has changed, has shifted to fulfil 
The will of One who has done all things well, 
Whose law would make earth Eden, not a hell 
Of warring men that moan their unceasing 

knell, 
Wilhelm Hohenzollern, Kaiser Bill. 

34 



You should have fought in lawful war for this 
One only empire, losing which you miss 
All laurels save the menace reeking hiss 
Wrung from a world you would subdue or 

kill. 
Your name and fame through future years 

must run, 
Not, William the World Conqueror, — no, 

"The Hun 
That failed to be the first and only one, — 
Just Wilhelm Hohenzollern, Kaiser Bill." 



35 



"WHO TOLD THEE?" 

'Twas Eden in the cool of day. 

'Twas Eden glorious in the maze 
Of all her infant splendors. God 

Had marked in her His thoughts and ways 
Made very good, and now drew near 

While night's cool shadows, dew and haze 
Marked one of those first sweet days fled — 
Was it of those ? Who has not said, 

"Ah, woe betide that day of days !" 

Then God's voice called to those who hid 

Among the fountains wild, and bowers 
Late found of death, yet late so free; 

And slow shame answered mid the flowers, 
With fear that told of woe to be — 

And then that cry. God, the towers 
Of thy far Heaven of light must then 
Have echoed it again, again, — 

"Who told thee?" — while lost Eden cowers. 

"Who told thee?" the bitter cry 

Of Him who seeks the lost in pain, 
Not blame or wrath: 'tis echoing 

From Calvary as far lights wane, 
And earth gives up her dead, and all 

Earth-masks and vails are rent in twain. 
Lost, lost ! And yet the lost once more 
Through storms shall reach glad Eden's 
shore — 

For Him the storm, for us the gain. 

36 



And still I hear that cry today : 

It sounds through all the land and sea 
As mankind reach with groping hands 

To clothe and hide their misery 
In vain from Him whose eye they shun: 

Yet who should wish to hide or flee 
While tears of welcome, tears of blood 
Have rained and still shall rain their flood 

Of cleansing over you and me? 



87 



OF THE FREE 

Written in answer to the familiar poem by 
Mrs. Hemans, ending thus, — 

"My heart in chains is bleeding, 
And I dream of all things free." 

I dream of Thee, the free: — 

Not of the gallant bark, 
That sweeps through storm and sea 

Like an arrow to its mark ; 
For there are storms that lift 

To the heavens the seething wave, 
Mad storms that rise, and sift 

Strong barks over ocean caves : — 
Not of the stag that bounds 

O'er the hills in silent glee. 
For the hunter's call resounds, 

And the saved must quickly flee: — 
Not of a thousand rills 

That flash, and flow to the sea 
Whose depth each bright heart stills 

With a vail of mystery: — 
Not of the mountain bird 

Who surveys his realms, a king, 
For the arrow has deterred 

His rushing mighty wing: — 
Not of the woodland river 

On whose breast no sail may be — 
Its cold, dark waters shiver 

Till lost in the deep, deep sea: — 
Not of the forest child, 

With the fawns and flowers at play, 

38 



For the serpent has beguiled 

His steps in a crooked way: — 
Not of the Indian lone, 

With the stars to guide his feet, 
For the will-o'-the-wisp has shone, 

And stars past the clouds retreat. — 
Fate the warrior host is leading; 

Death stalks neath the archer's tree;- 
My heart in chains is bleeding, 

And I dream, Heaven, of Thee. 
I dream of Thee, the free, — 

Yet not free till each lone child 
Returns from the far country, 

From the husks, the swine, the wild; 
Then for each the Father's kiss, 

And the feast by the crystal sea. — 
My heart leaps forth to this, 

And, Heaven, I dream of Thee., 



POST MORTEM SERVICE. 

What shall be done with the Kaiser, 

For his downfall is now well assured? 
Hanging will not make him wiser: — 

Can revenge right the wrongs we've en- 
dured ? 
Kill him, and thus raise the nations 

Low in dust, maimed and crushed at his 
feet? 
Starve him, and thus supply rations 

That the famished in millions may eat? 

Such were his deeds, such his scheming. 

Can sane men in his steps seek his fate ? 
Aircastles built on like dreaming 

Will betray, and wreck any fair state. 
Rulers are ruled by one higher 

In authority's chain linked to God: — 
Broken chains locate the liar, 

Heaven is true though man draws toward 
the clod. 

Prone bid him lie, nor restore him 

To the honors his strength could not bear : 
Mustered in millions before him 

Armies slain will march ceaselessly there. 
Silence will voice all their anguish, 

Night reveal all the woe none can tell : — 
How could a human heart languish 

In a deeper, unthinkable hell ? 



40 



TWO 

"One Indian is bad, and one is good, — 

I am two Indians," said he; 
"One says, Take back all that you stole 
away/ 

One says, 'Keep it, ah, who shall see.' " 
And this he told when the good Indian 

Had thrown the bad one on the ground, 
And set his foot upon him there until 

Crushed to the earth, and safely bound. 

O every heart is two, the false, the true; 

For gold and dross are never found 
Unmixed, although by heaven refined, 

While earth still bounds our sight and 
sound : 
And no man's travail is in vain that gives 

The might and victory to the right 
In his own breast, or in the heart of those 

Who stagger in the long-drawn fight. 



41 



LOVE, HUMAN AND DIVINE. 

"Why make ye this ado, and weep?" 

This beating heart with life is sweet, — 
This human heart that long and well 

Has borne the scorching noontide heat. 
What mean ye that ye weep and howl, 

And lade the weary heart of man 
With fear and falsehood's withering blight, 

And brand God's bounties with your ban? 

For love is love as God is God. 

It springs not from the void or deep 
Abyss whence God has fled. It comes 

And ever has, and still shall sweep 
From out His throne whose heart flows out 

Upon the poor wayfaring man 
Untaught, he need not err therein, 

Till taught of you he never can. 

What say ye, — has the love of God 

No measure that shall justly weigh 
Our bond of human love and trust 

And kindness here through earth's dim 
day? 
Is His love high, and ours so base 

That they can never kinship know? — 
Well then, say on, — as truly say 

Almighty God is man's high foe — 

But He is not: His love and ours 
Is one, one and the same — yes, all 

From Him. He will not chide ye then 
If ye bewail the sparrow's fall. 

42 



Behold no idol; heed no fear 

Of love too deep. He is not great 

Or wise or good who sits enthroned 
And looks above the sad estate 

Of grief or pain, of shame or sin. 

He is not Godlike nor can be 
Who seeks to lock the door of heaven 

Against the turmoil, so that he, 
From earth's loud wail of woe set free 

May pass unmoved into the feast 
Of Him who said, "Ye bless not me 

In that ye bless not these, the least." 

But if ye mean to prate of what 

Must "war against the soul" in pride, 
Then call it so, and thrust it down 

When it has been through Heaven's fire 
tried, 
And proven base — A thing abhorred, 

And to be trampled low as dust 
Beneath his feet who fears no ill 

In crushing wrong as conquerers must. 



43 



STORM-TOSSED 

Jesus, Lover of my soul, 
While the deepening shadows roll, 
And the winds of tempests high 
With resistless sweep defy 
All my struggling finite will, 
Vainly crying, — "Peace, be still !" — 
Thou Strong One ever nigh, 
Let me to Thy bosom fly. 

Other refuge have I none. — 
Leave, leave me not alone, 
Lest my years as blown sands lie 
Drifting 'neath a desert sky; 
Where the winds vehement urge 
On to seething ocean's surge. 
Darkness falls, — Abide with me. 
Clings my helpless soul to Thee. 

Plenteous grace with Thee is found: 
Let its healing streams abound 
Where the flow of Marah first 
Mocked, and gave me deeper thirst. 
Call to life and peace from woe 
This lone heart, streams that flow 
From heaven's eternal throne within,— 
Grace that covers all my sin. 



44 



TWO SLEEPERS, JESUS AND JONAH 

They slept though winds and waves rose 
high, 

They slept a deep and dreamless sleep 
Till wakened by the voice of fear 

Engulfed by voices of the deep: 
For both were wearied with the cares 

Of past light-bearing, gracious day : 

One spent of goaded conscience lay, 
One found release from answering prayers. 

One rose, and saw beyond the winds, 
Beyond the waves, and in His heart 

A calm, as oil on water's strife, 

That bids the wildest storm depart. 

He woke to chide the captive will 

And slay the strongest power on earth, 
The captor, Fear, of little worth 

When earth can hear heaven's "Peace, be 
still!" 

One wakes to find his birthright lost, 
And wreck and ruin seize his breast, 

And waters overrun his soul 

At the storm-demons mad behest: 

Yet Mercy came, and heard his plea. 

And smote Revenge, and felled his arm. — 
When we have sought such power to harm, 

May Mercy stand by you and me. 



45 



"AS YE MEASURE.'* 

Likely you've noticed lots o' times, 

Er I have, anyway, 
Thet when yer actin' selfish-like, 

Er think, er speak an' say 
'Bout others what you wouldn't like 

Fer them t' say o' you — 
Why, jes' that same day, like es not, 

They told t' naber Gray 
A lot o' yarns, — some false, some true- 

Intendin' t' betray, 
An' set you down a notch er so, 
An' make ye furyus too. 

An' mebby, too, ye've noticed how 

It's right th' other way, 
If you've been actin' real p'lite, 

An' think t' speak an say 
Th' best ye know, — jes' what ye'd like 

Th' rest t' tell o' you— 
Why jes' that same day, like es not, 

They told good naber Gray 
Some real strong words t' lift ye up, 

An' leave ye feelin' gay. — 
Yes sir, an' when ye grin et folks 
Ye'll see them grinnin' too. 



46 



TENTING 

I'm tenting tonight on the old camp ground 
Where many hearts have bled; 

I'm tenting tonight where Love can heal 
Each wound, and raise the dead. 

I'm tenting tonight on the old camp ground 
Where warfare soon shall cease, 

For Jesus comes in light and power 
To reign in rest and peace. 



47 



GOD AND SELF 

I thought of the fierce robber hordes 

That steal from their poor fellow-man — 
Not only the pirates at sea, 

Not only the highway-man clan — 
I thought of the civilized bands 

That, coming by night or by day, 
Take hold on your honor and name, 

And carry your heart's gold away: 
And thinking, I thought how they might 

Take all of earth's comfort and pelf, 
And even this breath of earth-life, 

But they must leave God and yourself. 

They may give you pain for sweet peace, 

They may give the rack and the chain 
For home, where the storm-weary rest; 

For help you might give on the main 
Where many are sinking, or drift 

A wreck with the tide going out. 
And scorn for sweet praise they may give, 

For friendship give hatred and doubt. 
But this that they never have given, — 

This gift never brought 'neath their rod 
Is one wide as all earth and heaven, 

And pays for each loss, — self and God. 

They must leave the God whose great heart 
Looks forth from the million hearts 
'round, — 

The God whose great Word is on tongues 
Unnumbered, through sky, sea and ground. 

48 



The Word which was once and again, 

And is often made flesh to dwell 
Among" men to suffer and die, 

And rise from the earth where it fell. — 
For no good that is, or has been 

May be slain in light, or by stealth, 
But must rise, like Him, in new life — 

They must leave you God and yourself. 

They must leave you self. When the sun 

Pervades his broad realms at high noon ; 
When pale in the far midnight sky, 

Rise stars and the lone quiet moon, 
This self, at such times, seems to pass 

These bars of the prison-house clay — 
This self which no power that has been 

Or shall be can pilfer away, — 
This self that is sometimes cast low 

As foul feet of vice ever trod, 
Cast down by its own ruthless hand ; 

But none may destroy self or God. 



49 



DON'T LAUGH. 

A little girl with eyes of blue 
Had been with us a year or two 

When one day — I forget the cause — 
We grown up children, as it were, 
Were so unkind we laughed at her. 

She had transgressed no human laws 
Or laws Divine, but when she heard 
The foolish laugh, the jesting word, 

Then childhood dropped its Eden staff, 
Her blue eyes kindled new "strange fire" 
As in her impotent, sad ire, 

She firmly, fiercely cried, "Don't waf !" 

I've often thought of it since then — 
Thought how we careless children-men 

Ignore and buffet and control 
And ridicule our more than peers 
In life and heart, if not in years; 

And lay them low in mind and soul. 

When some unique and simple heart 
Lowly and upright, takes no part 

In trodden paths, in cursed ways; 
And follows its God-fearing plan 
As but unbiased nature can — 

Must such be held before the gaze 
Of ill-bred, hooting mobs? — No, no! 
If one such falls before the woe 

Caused by the tempter's storm-blown chaff, 
Then, if you may not pick him up, 
Nor put the spilled milk in his cup, 

Be human-kind, — don't laugh, don't laugh. 



50 



THE ROUND 

The sun and moon across the sky- 
Seem playing tag and catch, 

And all the other bright star worlds 
Seem leaping like Sam Patch, 

Or a boomerang without a twang, 
After the fiery sun 

Who turns each day a somersault, 
And reels about for fun. 

And, as each rocks him to and fro, 
The spring and autumn come and go, 
And come again in time to show 
Their power to banish bloom and snow. 

And I don't know a thing on earth 

Within our mortal sight 
That does not hail returning day 

After recurrent night; 
For the new must show when old things go, — 

But new is old made right — 
When the birds come back to build their nests 

Beneath the old, warm light. 

Where shall this transient breath-life be 
When it has gone from you and me, — 
When we have hurried homeward, free 
From this short round of mystery ? 



51 



BROTHERS. 

Not Joseph alone has been lowered 

By brothers who hated his dreams: 
Not Joseph alone has been bartered 

For pieces of silver, it seems. 
And many a slave finds his dungeon 

Today, and the same chains and beams 
That shut Joseph in for a season, 

For earth with such brotherhood teems. 

For envy, for lucre, for spite work, 

How many have been, and are sold, 
Though Judas still finds that the traitor 

Abhors both the greed, and the gold. 
Base deeds of the night, in the daytime 

Have been and shall ever be told. — 
May we all at last find a Joseph 

To weep o'er the follies of old. 



52 



PEARLS AND SWINE. 

Are pearls of any worth to swine? 

Do pearls supply them drink or food 

Or bed, or any needed good ? 

Can pearls by swine be understood? 
Never, while in God's great design 
Pearls still are pearls, and swine are swine. 

What then are swine, and what are pearls ? 
Pearls speak to men through rainbow 

forms 
Of undimmed light above the storms, 
Of truth unfound of all alarms 
From its imperyan throne who hurls 
Day broadcast o'er a million worlds. 

And swine? What of the swine? Are they 
Beings that have no need of light? — 
Creatures that thrive on howling night 
Where darkness gives vile instinct sight, 

Where nature has no part in day? 

Who knows of such? Can any say? 

Can it be then that word or deed 

Or smile shall fall unseen, unknown, 
Or to be spurned by swine as stone? 
Can this their mission be alone ? 
Shall any love in vain so plead 
While all creation groans in need? 

But you and I have gifts — our own — 
Which cast away must beggar you 
And me, though of no value to 
All others, who our pearl must view 
As swine: while earth and heaven moan 
And wail that we, for bread, ?;1vq stone. 
53 



LITTLE OR BIG 

A little girl once had a good time and fine 
For quite a long while, then the sun ceased to 

shine, 
And shadows came up and spread over her 

sky, 
And into her heart till it seemed she must 

die: — 
For who on this earth can live long without 

light; 
The wee flower will hide its sweet face from 

the night. 
Then she cried and cried, and no one heard 

her cry, 
But the tears fell fast till the billows swept 

high. 

Then she told some friends, and they scorned 

all her fear, 
And though they loved her, yet they cared 

not to hear 
Her plaint: and they shook each a wise 

solemn head: — 
"She'll feel better when she forgets," so they 

said. 
She might have as well — though I'm sure she 

could not 
Cut her heart right out, and have laughed 

and forgot. 
But I'll tell no more of her wild darksome 

maze, 
For after each night comes the warm, bright 

sunrays 
When little birds sing all around sweetest 

praise. 

54 



And after the storm and its fury had past 
This wee maid, one day, caught her wee 

finger fast 
In a door that tore quite a piece, less or more, 
From her finger-tip that was left somewhat 

sore: 
Then her friends came round, though she 

cared not to cry, 
And they said, "O dear ! How it must hurt ! 

0, my!" 

When your Gethsemane in its terrible might 
Has seized on your soul, and engulfed all your 

light, 
There is only One Heart that it ever will do 
To show all your heart and its great sorrow 

to: 
But when the sky clears, and the fierce mid- 
night ends 
You may show, nor fear, all your hurts to 
voui* friends. 



- 



DON'T ASK FER OPINIONS. 

Seems-like some folks wan't born t' be 

Like some s' mighty high, 
Some ain't like other knowin' ones 

Thet know th' hull purt-nigh, — 
Er seem to when ye visit 'em, 

An' ask 'em how an' why: 
But then I've found it aint jes' wise, 

Ner yet th' safest way, 
T' ask folks fer opinions much, 

Ner mind much what they say. 

Of course, some folks, they know a lot — 

More'n what you'd think they do, 
But they ain't them thet hoots an' grins, 

An' tells ye what t' do. 
I'd good-'eal ruther trust me own 

Instinct an' jedgment through 
Th' thick an' thin, then run th' risk 

0' goin' th' wrong way 
A-askin' fer opinions, er 

A-mindin' what they say. 

Fer it don't make a feller feel 

S'-very bright an' good 
When he has give himself away — 

An' sees he never should — 
A-beggin' fer a loaf frum clods 

Thet never tasted food: 
When th' hootin' clods hev spurned an' turned 

His golden grain away, — 
When he's ast folks fer opinions, 

An' found out what they say. 



56 



A FACE 

I saw from my car window 

As another car passed by 
A face look from its window — 

One that looked with wistful eye — 

Whose face? Where was he going? 

As for me, my train went home. 
Perhaps he looked for friends who 

Had long watched for him to come 

Back to his home of childhood, 
Where the breezes moan and pray 

For ruddy cheeks and bare brown feet 
They kissed in paths of play. 

He may have been just leaving 

His first home, and dear first friends, 

And looked for kindred faces 

As he sought the world's far ends. 

I may not know — 'twas a moment, 
Just a glance, and his glance fled. — 

I know his heart sought something, 
Was that something with the dead? 

friends, in life's brief moment 
While we look through time's dark car, 

Each day we hail hearts seeking 
The city with gates ajar, 

Where mystery and sadness 
With the earth shall flee away 

Before His face who seeks for 
All His own once far away. 

57 



GLAD OF FALL. 

The yellow leaves fall in the crisp and clear 

Yet twilight morn, 
And I am glad th,e autumn days are here 

Of summer born. 

Though soon, I know, o'er all the plain and 
vale 

And mountain side 
Must fall the soft- winged, brooding pall and 
mail 

Spread far and wide : 

For all things say that, underneath the snow 

From out the mold, 
The soul of waiting life shall ever grow 

New from the old. 



S3 



THE BETTER PART. 

Better say, "Good morning, brother !" 
While he treads near fields of light — 
Better now than when he passes 

Through the distant fields of night 
With a heavy heart and lonely 
Out of hearing, out of sight, 

Better than to wail "Good-night" 
As the warrior quits the fight. 

Better give a cup of water 

When the scorching sun is high 
Than to prate of Life's clear river 
With the shade of healing nigh; 
For the gift, best where no word is, 
Bids the fountain floods on high 
Pour down from the riven sky 
While cool shadows wander by. 

Better plant but one lone blossom 

By the dusty wayside here 
In the cool of evening shadows 

While the weary throngs surge near, 
Than to lay your fairest, thorny, 
Unseen rose upon the bier 
Over death-sealed eye and ear 
Where the dead heeds not your tear 

I'd rather put a daisy 

Or a sweet-eyed violet 
In some heart to live forever 

After earth's last sun has set, 
Than to scatter fairest flowers, 

With fresh dews of heaven made wet, 
On the dust in dust that heeds not 
How this heart faints with regret. 

59 



"OH, MY NOSE!" 

She held the book in both her chubby hands 

Firm clenched on either side, 
And thus she stood before the bedroom door 

As it swung- open wide; 
There, too, her sister, older by two years, 

Who wanted her to hide, 
Stood for a moment statue-like, then loud 

And suddenly she cried, 
"0, my nose!" 

The smaller maid, whose fierce-eyed, active 
rage 

Had quickly waned and passed, 
Grew meek, then penitent and full of dole 

As she wailed out, at last, 
Her grief and plight, her strife and sin : — 

She said she had to hit 
Her sister hard, and hurt her nose somewhat 

And scare her just a bit 
In order that she might persuade this dear 

Sister to let her out 
The shut and guarded door, — and then the 
end 

Of tale and grief and bout, 
"0, my nose!" 

They both cried long and loud, and crying, 
said 

The same words, "0, my nose !" 
One was in pain; and one in four-fold pain, 

Remorse, cried, "0, my nose!" 
As I recall this childish fray tonight 

I say 'twere fair and well 
If every human hurt could thus be laid 

With all its menace fell 
60 



Upon the unerring balance 'gainst such great 

And heavy, hale regret; 
So that life's pardoning, and repentant tears 

Might, ere life's sun be set, 
Fall equally upon the buried strife 

Uncherished, soon forgot. — 
O, that each smitten one and smighter might 

Thus end old Satan's plot, 

Each crying, — yes, why not? — 
"0, my nose!" 



61 



THE WORLD'S WAY. 

The good Lord must love cowards lots — ■ 

Ye think He don't? Well now, I say 
He does, — but then I ain't s'-sure 

He alius likes th'ir sneakin' way. 
He loved 'em when He stood alone 

That night in black Gethsemane ; 
When, knowin' human nature through 

And through, He said, "Let these go free." 

An' sense that, es before, great souls 

Hev stood alone. All them thet git 
Th'ir names wrote high on honor's scroll 

On earth, an' in heaven's higher yit, 
Hev heard th' rabble's hoot an' yell, 

An' mebby, seen th' gleamin' sword, 
Er rack an' chain, er stake an' flame — 

But 'tain't no use t'-say a word. 

Fer they ain't one thet follers on 

Th' broad way wher' th' menny go 
But knows all this — sometimes I think 

They know mor'n what they'd like t' 
know : — 
Fer, when ye see one all alone, 

He sorto-looks a pleadin' way, 
An' says, "I'd like t'-walk with you, 

But, law! what would my nabers say?" 

An' so ye'd better love 'em lots; 

An' jes' be glad yer back is broad 
An' able, through th' help God gives, 

T'-bear most enny earthly load. 

62 



An' think, an' tell 'em of a time 

When th' hull crowd-'ll go th' way 
Thet's straight an' smooth — yes, with th' 
crowd, 

Fer ther' wont be no other way 
T'-go. An' then they'll be s'-glad 

They'll drop a tear, when no one knows, 
T'-think some day they'll walk th' path 

They'd like-t' now, with these an' those, — 
A-joggin' on, all straight in line, 

A-goin' wher' th'ir nabers goes. 



ffl 



THE SURFACE SMILE. 

Her tasks were such she hurried on 
And worried on and flurried on 
For many a day and many a year, 
Through many a storm, through many a tear 
Till life was heartache bound by fear. 
And if she planned for thus and so, 
Whether to stay or come or go, 
Her plans fell vanquished — faint in woe. 

And then she asked for one good day 
To sweep her darkness far away, 
Nor even let grim memory stay. 
A breath came on the fragrant breeze 
Far-blown from over unknown seas; 
It whispered of a sun that shone 
On many worlds from zone to zone: — 
A sun that shines, and still must shine 
For thee and me, for thine and mine 
When shadows stray far, far away 
To come again no more, no more ; 
When banished seas divide no shore. 

And so where'er she went, she took 

The cast-off smile, the kindly look; 

And found, though barred by woe and guile, 

The human heart's door all the while 

Swings open to the surface smile. 



u 



TO AN EASTERN CITY. 

A city set upon a hill, 
Upon the hills where winds blow free 
From far across the eastern sea, 
This city can but flood and fill 
The near and distant with its light 
For it cannot be hid from sight : — 
A city on a broad, clear stream 
Above its tide among the hills 
Builded by men whose glorious dream 
Has been fulfilled. God grant few ills 
In all the future prosperous years 
May dim your smile by cloud or tears. 

For fifty years, yes, five decades 
Beyond two centuries your name 
Has been a household word where fades 
The setting sun, or bursts the flame 
Of early dawn. Among the first 
To speak that name with reverent awe 
Were savage men who blessed nor cursed 
Its sound because the white man's law 
Spoke universal brotherhood; — 
Yes, the white brother understood 
The common Elder Brother's word; 
And bought the red man's land, and bought 
Possessions more secure than sword 
Or unjust force can give. You taught 
The "godly government" you sought 
Better in that one deed than through 
A million precepts though as true 
As the high heavens from whence they came. 
Your city's first sons just and brave 
Embraced much of the law through flame 
65 



And cloud that Moses heard and gave 

To men from Sinai's top. Since then 

A gentler Being set aside 

A code fulfilled, and He denied 

The justice of a law where men 

Take eye for eye and tooth for tooth. 

For lack, He said, of common ruth — 

Only because men's hearts were hard — 

Moses gave the command that marred 

The light of home. So it is well 

To break each yoke, and yet retain 

The stricken Truth ; for, though 'twere slain, 

Truth shall arise from where it fell 

To smite the lie, and set you free. 

She stood at your right hand when vile 

Oppression frowned at Liberty; 

She armed your sons for battle while 

Through fog and fen she led them past 

The realms of low-browed tyranny 

Unto the highlands safe at last. 

She led forth few, not the many, 

To victory that none might boast 

Of whelming arms or valiant host. 

Tablet and monument proclaim 

Today your pride in many a name 

Of men within you worthy found, — 

Of those to fellow mankind bound 

By lives of sacrifice and toil 

Helpful to men who stoop and moil 

In irksome paths — the ceaseless grind 

That feeds no famished heart or mind. 

Your public schools delight to do 

Honor to all these learned and true 

And patriot sons whose lives have made 

Their existence possible, who paid 

The price devotion gives to obtain 

A better resurrection, and again, 

66 



Again and always live among 1 

Soul kindred, victors through their death. 

Tis meet their praises should be sung. 

On chords made vibrant by their breath. 

And your libraries' silent throng 

May educate ; may please and lift 

The brow of toil, and youth adrift 

And struggling here may find the strong 

Right hand of help for which men long 

Who hunt success nor find it where 

They meet unsought the false and fair 

In city life on her thoroughfare. — 

Yet learning may be made a tool 

Of vice, and in its teeming school 

Promote to highest rank. Our clod 

Must own within a better part : 

'Tis :— 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 

With all thy strength and mind and heart,' 

And "love thy neighbor as thyself." — 

On these rest all the law ; and none 

Can safely rule who first would shun 

To obey through lust of power or pelf. 

Your city's mighty heart is fed 

Today not by the chosen few 

Wholly, but by the many too 

Who daily toil for daily bread, — 

By the four hundred thousand souls, 

Your life blood that forever rolls 

Along its wonted course. 'Tis well 

If paths immaculate leave no stain 

On restless feet, on hand or brain 

Where this tide sweeps in ebb and swell, 

Here where at noon vast shade trees bless 

With outspread arms' intense caress. 

And all is for the public good ; 

Thus are your careful, patient brood 

Cheered and encouraged as they kneel 

67 



Before the goods-producing wheel. 

And these are they who make you known 

The world around, from zone to zone ; 

These bring you gratitude and praise 

For worthy works and honest ways. 

Strengthen your bulwarks, build your towers ; 

Cherish your homes where beautiful 

Wide lawns smile forth from affluent bowers ; 

Encourage science; train and school 

Your sons and daughters in fine arts, 

And arts useful; — but maintain 

Conditions, qualities, and parts 

That constitute the common fane 

Where men may worship, Right may reign. 

In your wide parks may fountains speak 

To mankind of the life they seek 

That rises through the earth amain, 

And stills the bitter salt-sea thirst. 

May they who hunted madness first 

In the distilleries' vile flow 

Here drink, and feel the deadening woe 

Swept off as deeper drafts are given 

That well through clay and rise to heaven. 

Put down the curse, and seek the good 

Of each fair race, one brotherhood 

Within you. Seek His will whom none 

Resist that prosper. Well begun 

Was your life course; and may its flow 

As in the last half century grow 

In men who will embrace the power 

To discern the needs of this great hour, 

Men of heroic heart who slay 

Each wrong, nor shun the perpetual fray ; 

So that when you shall celebrate 

In future, as you do today, 

Your weal increased, in fair display, 

No vampire shall betray such state. 

<>8 



HOW WE KNOW 

How do I know there's a great God above ? 

How do they know ? — How do you ? 
What do we all know of life, truth and love, 

Looking through fog as we do? 

There hang the clouds, just above, just 
beyond — 
Clouds that no eye can see through : 
Why should we weary this eyesight whose 
bond 
Earthy, holds Earth from Heaven's blue? 

Where are we looking? Why stumble and 
stare ? 

Near us is kind light and true 
Showing our hearts so deserted and bare, 

Groping through void not their due. 

Oil without money or price let us buy; 

So shall our lamps burn anew ; 
So shall Earth see through its Heaven- 
lighted eye 

All that the clouds hid from view, — 

See that our God cannot sleep or journey 
far; — 
In Him all breathe and live new — 
Know that the seen and unseen at peace, at 
war, 
Through Him, the Unbegotten, grew. 



69 



AT TWILIGHT. 

I would these thoughts that rush and crowd 
Into the twilight's healing calm 
When glow the golden fires of home, — 

would that they might thus call loud 
When Day is here, and his bright sun 
Smites with sore pain our darkened eyes ; 
When, striking on the desert sand, 

He calls forth fires weird to burn 

Our feet: — then they had been as clouds 

All heaven-white that roam above, 

And only steal so much of light 

As we below may not endure. 

Tonight I wonder who there are 

Of all earth's transient guests, if less 

Or more than mine their years may be, 

Who, musing on the past, this hour 

Might say with me, — Why did I seem 

Beneath the glare of rudest Day 

So far estranged from my best self? 

And yet, I think, our God would see 

The urgent hidden goad within, — 

"The canker, and the grief", and seem 

To see no more, and chide us not 

In this our thoughtful twilight hour: 

And so this central beam of hope 

And mercy shows through all my mind's 

Lone universe in shadow cast, 

As evening's star stands boldly out 

To bid defiance to the night. 

1 would that it might thus for all 
Beam wide on this and brighter worlds; 



For, even when we find our chief 

Concern is only for ourselves, 

This light showers wondrous beauty down 

Upon our world. So I would send 

Its rays broadcast tonight, if so 

I might retrieve a few of those 

Hours mute within the past, about 

Whose graves the rue as mute doth twine. 

I would that it might reach all, all 

Who shared those hours with me, or shared 

The smallest part of but one hour; 

Though some are far beyond the sight 

Of mortal eye, beyond our voice, 

Though not beyond the hue and cry 

Led on by Hope, who still would draw 

Within the sheltering bars of home 

All spirits from the vasty deep. 



71 



ME AN' YOU AN' THEM. 

I can't see what c'n make folks act 

This sort-o' way like what they do : 
Ye can't tell by their looks, ner talk, 

Ner ways th' ha'f o' what is true; 
An' sometimes, now I re'lly think 

The'r a-workin' hard es they c'n try, 
Jes' clear a-purpose — so it seems — 

T-make ye see an' think a lie. 

I cal'late, an' I tell th' rest, 

Taint wuth 'nuf so 't'll ever pay, 
T'-fuss 'bout what folks think an' air 

Wh'n it's s'-fur frum what they say: 
An' ef we saw th' hungry hearts 

A-wantin' t'-be strong an' true, 
We wouldn't pout, ner seem t'-mind, 

Wh'n it's s'-fur frum what they do. 

But 'taint no use t'-say ye be 

A child o' His what makes His sun 
T'-rise on both th' bad an' good, 

An' sends His rain fur every one 
Unless ye act th' same es Him, — 

An' ef ye don't, I'll tell ye now, 
Ye'll do more harm then eny poor 

Blind mortal means t'-do, I vow. 

Fer they aint one, I guess, on airth, 
But must go thru some midnight wild, 

An' if, bymby, ye stood inside 

Some heart's best room 'mong shadders 
piled 

72 



S'-dark an' deep thet none but God 
An' angels might go thru, ner die, — 

Why ye'd be mighty sorry then 
If ye hed spoke er lived a lie. 

Fer then that poor soul in th' night 

'LI balance up yer life an' talk' — 
If lackin' it-'ll seem thet God 

An' heaven air nothin' but a mock: 
But if ye've stood th' hottest fire, 

Ner let th' smile o' God's love fail, 
That smile '11 be a lamp t' show 

Heaven's angels past hell's blackest vail. 

An' so th' storm-beat heart may reach 

Fer help frum out it's fierce despair, 
Ner reach in vain. — That's why, ye see, 

'T'll pay us here t'sort-o' care — 
Not what folks do, ner say t'-us, 

Ner how they wrong us here ner there, — 
Care how 't'll seem wh'n falls the night 

Thet comes on all at unaware. 



7S 



RIGHT-WRONG AND WRONG-RIGHT. 

O I know how they say wrong is wrong in 

degree 
And in time and in place, but when once it 

is free 
From such time, from such place and degree, 

wrong is right, — 
But to me, day is day; and to me, night is 

night. 

And no good can be ill, and no ill can be good ; 
Though their laws by poor mortals are not 

understood. 
Right may stand at the helm, and Peace 

throttle each blast 
On the waters where Wrong would spread 

ruin broadcast. 

Let the sailor and sea thank the Ruler whose 

power 
Shall destroy the Usurper that claims but an 

hour: 
But, until the day rise, and there shall be no 

night, 
You can't make right wrong, and you can't 

make wrong right. 



74 



AN APOLOGY. 

Seems-like it's been since I w's born nearly 

most every day 
I've wanted-t'-apologize fer gettin' in the way 
Down here on this old reelin' earth 
Drunk on its dope of restless mirth: 
But then I guess ther' must be some good 

reason why I come 
T'-be brought here from out somewhere thet 
used-t'-be my home — 

Fer it jes' seems-like once I had a better place 
t'-stay, 

An' I w's better too, it can't seem any other 
way: 
But I can't guess jes' why I strayed 
'Way down t'here t'-be betrayed 

An' stuffed into this cussed warped and shriv- 
elled shape I be, 

A-gaspin' here fer freer air thet meets not 
land ner sea. 

They say great minds rise up above calamity, 

an' lift 
The'rselves on wings, but little ones sink 

down subdued, an' drift 
On any ebb an' tide thet flows, — 
If that is so, if "they say" knows, 
Then I'm a little one, — but yet, One said thet 

there above 
Their angels alius see the face of Father, — 

Light and Love. 

75 



I reckon now, that's somewher' near my old 
home use-t'-be, 

An' meby that's the reason why they whis- 
per-like t'-me 
Sometimes, wh'n they get sorry too, 
Thet I'm away, jes' like I do: 

An' th'r s'-sad they alius tell, wh'n, somehow, 
I don't say 

The'r whispered word in smile er deed t'-them 
es f er away 

An' homesick es I be. — I guess thet's why I 

feel s'-bad 
Wh'n I don't think ner say ner do jes' like 

I wisht I had. — 
Seems-like I've alius fought again' 
Myself an' them, an' alius been 
What I w's longin' not to be: — fer oft my 

heart Vd fill, 
An' cry t'-these, my first home friends, — I 

will, I will, I will! 

But then I wouldn't after all: — an' seems- 
like, wh'n I tried 

T'-aim th' clostest, that w's when the shot 
'u'd scatter wide: — 
An' wh'n I meant the best I could, 
Seems-like folks didn't take it good:— 

An' wh'n I've tho't to give some word o'-cheer 
I ought t'-say, 

W'y they've jes' twisted it around t'-mean 
th' other way. 

So that's th' reason thet I like, while I stay 

here below, 
T'-sneak off sort-o' lonesome-like, an' let the 

whole earth go: — 
76 



Tho I'd be glad fer all t'-know 
Thet I sh'd like t'-rest each woe, 
An' lift a bit fer friend an' foe:— 
But then, I alius feel the best wh'n I stay out 

o' sight, — 
Where I don't seem s'-out o'-place, where I 
can write an' write. 



?* 



"THY WILL BE DONfi". 

"Thy will be done !" patient God and good, 

Tender and kind, what means this cry 
From pallid lips, from heart-destroying pain ; 

This piercing wail that now draws nigh 
Thy throne with Judas' kiss, while just 
behind 
Press multitudes that soon descry 
Thee in thy heaven-Gethseniane betrayed — 
Dark crowds, whose steps are heavy made 
With swords and staves to justify 
The truth-perverting traitor, Lie ! 

What deep, calm, still-Voiced answer do 1 
hear, 
While outstretched hands of healing rest 
In God's great pity on the smart? — "Suffer 

Ye thus far."— So at Thy behest 
Peace comes, while all the sons of strife fall 
back 
Confounded, prone, — yet rise in quest 
Of Him they seek to slay, and do slay : Thou 
Shalt rise their radiant Conqueror, though 
now 
As in time past and in time to be 
Thou art, wast, shalt be shamefully 

Smitten and wounded in the house of friends, 

There Thou dost plead as with Thy child, 

And say: "When thou first sensed thy being 

free 

As heaven's sweet light which on thee 

smiled, 

TS 



And smiled within, why didst thou never 
then, 
Infant, sweet-voiced and unbeguiled, 
Pray thus to Me ? And later when the earth 
Rose vast before thee, and thy soul's great 
worth 
Showed vaster still, why in that hour 
Didst thou not seek My will and power? 

"Thou knewest, aye thou knowest well, the 
paths 
Thy untried feet ran swift to gain 
Lay not within the beauteous domains 
Of My will : — no such ways profane 
My land. Impelled toward evil through its 
source, 
By thine own will thou liest slain ; 
Yet are thy blinded eyes now quick to see 
My will in this thy baleful misery. 
blinded heathen heart and eye, 
Awake, and rid thee of the lie! 

•'Who taught thee thus to pray to Me? not I,, 
I ever taught thee thus to pray, 

Thy will be done on earth as it is done 
In heaven', where never ill doth stray. 

True, thus I prayed beneath the olive shade 
When death and all its power held sway 

Within My tortured spirit : thou canst not 

Repeat redemption's sacrifice to blot 

Sin out, nor is it therefore mete 

That this, My prayer thou shouldst repeat, — - 
Yet wounded child, come to Me 
That in My will thou mayest be free.'*' 



W 



A DREAM. 

I dreamed it was a winter day, 

And near the night ; 
And on my path, snow-dimmed, there lay 

Uncertain light. 

I hastened to the tasks that noon 

And morn assigned ; 
For they must all be finished soon, 

Or soon resigned. 

And lo, while still I journeyed on, 

The country wide 
Had vanished until all was gone 

But a hillside ; j 

And this, alas, I shortly saw, 

Had dwindled down 
To a house-top that seemed to draw 

Inward, and frown. 

And I crept farther from the verge 

In shrinking fear 
That steep ways slipping feet should urge 

To dark death near. 

And for securer hold I grasped 

A slender thread — 
It broke, — and then the leap. I gasped, 

And waked for dread. 

When life's poor dream no more may keep 

These hearts that roam, 
May we, before the last dark leap, 

Awake — at home. 



so 



THE GOLD BUG. 

I often wonder what folks think 

Thet buys up lands, an' lands, an' store 
Up gold an' silver heaped an' piled, 

An' raked an' piled an' heaped some more. 
I guess they don't pretend t'-think, 

Fer thoughts, sometimes, are quite a bore, 
Though I'm af eared they'll think real hard 

When night falls, an' they come t'-shore. 

But then I wonder more about 

Some pious folks you'd think just right 
T'-hear-'em talk in meetin's and 

Sich places wher' folks say a sight 
Thet they ferget about next day, 

Next day when they must hold on tight 
Fer fear th' gold-'ll slip away, — 

Next day when they cheat an' backbite. 

I reckon they'll feel awful sad 

Some day a-comin' soon er late, 
When they have reached their journey's end, 

An' find themselves inside heaven's gate, 
(Fer I surmise thet all of us 

'Ll-get there sometime, if we wait) 
S'-sad t'-find their treasures gone, 

Er but few left at any rate. 

An' they themselves put back an' down 

Where th'-land-sharks an' earthworms 
stay* 
These things wont seem s'-mighty there 

Thet here they thought of night an' day: 
An' angel bands '11-pity 'em 

Because they hunted shortlived pay, 
An' rich folks there '11-say, "I'm glad 

I aint that gold bug, anyway." 

81 



FOOD FOR THOUGHT 

When the hopes of a lifetime gasp black in 
the flame, 
And the hot cinders blister your feet in 
the race; 
When the casual observer laughs out his rude 
curse 
As he snatches the ashes to fling- in your 
face; 
When the evil-winged fowler's dart springs 
from his bow, 
And ascends your heart's white flocks 
aerial to greet, 
While your dove-like ideals fall fluttering 
down 
To die writhing and biting the dust at your 
feet : — 

Then 'tis well to consider, in such a vast hour, 
How and when the flame broke ; what was 
fed, at whose hand: 
For it may be, perhaps, in an unguarded time, 
From your soul's white-heat furnace a 
kindling brand 
Leaped astray : or it may be the fowler's vile 
eye 
Spied within your own precincts the ven- 
omous dart 
Your hand forged, though unworthy your 
thought and your life, 
And cast out from the crucible of your 
own heart. 

82 



Or whatever the cause, it is true and must 
ever 
Remain true, that the curse without cause 
cannot come: — 
Then pray, ye that suffer, and pray, ye 
wrong-doer, 
That unspeakable good of these ills be the 
sum: 
For the chariot of fire must convey to a 
higher 
Unknown realm what it seems to destroy 
and undo; 
Then the verdure we see in the grass and 
the tree 
Is this viewless eternal realm brought to 
our view. 
And no good may be slain that shall not live 
again, 
Though its carcass may serve at the fowl- 
er's vile feast; 
For a Hand that is strong over all shall make 
wrong 
Turn the wheels that draw Heaven to the 
greatest and least. 



TO THE PRODIGAL 

Only the old, old story, — 
My heart cries out to thee 

Across the deepened gloaming-. 
Across the mystery. 

I may not know thy sorrow 
Or pain; thy joy or peace; 

Or when the tempter binds thee, 
Who pleads for thy release. 

Yet must I bid this hung'ring, 
Lone, beating heart of clay 

Be still, and know who taught it 
For thee to watch and pray. 

Tis He whose heart of yearning 
Broods o'er earth's wild abyss, 

And views the wanderer, knowing 
That every heart is His; — 

'Tis He who thro' the silence 
Eternal watch doth keep, 

Not for the nine and ninety, 
But for the one lost sheep. 

And so, in tears and gloaming, 
My heart cries out for thee 

To God who, veiled in sunlight, 
Dispels all mystery. 



84 



SAINT LUKE, 11:4. 

(See Ferrar Fenton's Translation) 

'Tis thus you break the Tempter's arm and 
still his voice, 
King of Heaven, and Lord of earth and 
sea; 
'Tis so the wedge compressed springs from 
the crushing vice, 
The prison door swings wide unto the free. 

Mankind learns much through suffering 
when the stubborn will 
Receives the lesson in no better way. — 
The broken grist seeks not again the iron 
mill, 
The burnt child dreads in pretty flames 
to play. 

We love because He first loved. If there be 
of all 
His children or His creatures who have 
wronged 

Me less or more while laboring as an exiled 
thrall, 

I would release like Him who drank the cup 
of gall, 
Like Him to whom redemption's price be- 
longed. 



§5 



TO THE EXPLORER. 

Artie explorer on an unknown sea, 

Why should you search and strive and 
suffer so 
To discover lands that have been and must 
be 
Wrapped in their cerements white of ice 
and snow 
Eternally ? The southland calls you home ; — 
The sheltering palms pray to the cloudless 
blue; 
Luxuriant fields spread out before heaven's 
dome 
Bounty refused, and wish and wait for 
you. 

The treasures of that land you carried far 
Lie sere and dead, and sealed with biting 
frost. 
All nature here is with itself at war; 
Your heart is numb, your storm-strewn 
path is lost. 
What glory shall it be to hunt and find 
The throne of Death, the glittering crown 
of fate?— 
With all of life and beauty left behind, 
To grieve that you should tarry late, so 
late. 



t* 



DIRGES AND SPLURGES. 

These classical jargons, these heathenish 

dirges, 
How feeble their swell, and how foamy their 

surges! 
Yet each has its place, and 'twere well could 

each ever 
Attend its own sphere, and depart from it 

never. 

Where the barbarous idolater yields an obla- 
tion 

Such as wrongs, wounds and desecrates all 
God's creation, 

And your horror-struck heart down to savag- 
ery merges, 

With him strike your discords, for him wail 
your dirges. 

not to inspire men striving and sighing, 
O not for those higher than earth and its 

dying: — 
Where platitudes sicken, and fate the soul 

urges 
Invite your performer, and shriek out your 

dirges. 



87 



ILL. 

He said quite a few things that were all hate- 
ful flings; 
He was not just himself on that day: 
His head ached to decline the chills climbing 
his spine: 
He was more than half ill anyway. 

He felt better next day, and he had a changed 
way, 
So I must not recall what he said. 
Tis so good to forget all the friction and fret, 
And just leave the past hours with their 
dead. 

so many are sick, and they curse and they 
kick, 
For it's only well folks that are glad: 
There is more than one kind of heart-sick- 
ness, I find, 
But all kinds make poor mortals act bad. 

So don't ever you mind when rude folks are 
unkind, 
You stay hearty through clouds thin and 
thick ; 
For these folks will get well, and forget their 
bad spell — 
That's the way it must end with the sick. 



ON THE OCEAN 

Sailing o'er the untamed blue 

From the harbor, from the lea, 
'Gainst chill winds that landward blew 

O'er the wayward, wreck-strewn sea, 
Where the mast-head and the spar 

Rise above the quiet dead, 
Where the bell-buoy sounds afar 

Dirges o'er their darkened bed, 
Where the white sails come and go, 

Where the barges onward sweep 
To the port where home-fires glow 

From the port where lone hearts weep 
I have heard the voice of deep 

Moaning unto deep and me: 
But I wait till rude winds sleep, 

And there shall be no more sea. 



6$ 



BALKY. 

Reckon you've seen balky hosses, 

Sich es roll wild eyes askew, 
Slant the'r ears, an' buck an' caper, 

An' fling lofty feet at you. 
What on airth d'-you think makes-'em 

Act up sich a temptin' way, — 
So oncomfortable an' sassy? 

It's provokin', anyway. 

I've been thinkin' an' a-talkin' 

Lots about it t'-myslf : 
An' I've come t'-this conclusion, — 

Not f er flattery er pelf, 
But f er love o'-truth an' marcy, 

An' the jestice due a hoss — 
I conclude the brute larnt balkin' 

Frum a tarnal balky boss. 

Yit some men air mighty patient, 

An' they pet the fussy brute. 
Till it starts off kam if other 

Brutes don't stan'-around an' hoot. 
Mebby next time the hoss nater 

'LI assert the same sad need, 
But the patient man don't blame him 

Fer the past, ner fer his breed. 

Talkin' t'-myself, I muttered, 

Hosses aint much wus then folks: 

An' they aint used much wus neither 
Fer the slashes an' the strokes. 

30 



Don't I know, when I get riley 
Cause I think folks ain't been jest, 

If they come an' feed me sugar, 
I fergit about the rest. 

Don't I know, when I git notions 

T'-flare up, an' balk, an' kick, 
If I think how my Almighty 

Friend '11 only grow heart-sick, 
How He'll never blame ner lash me 

Like most all the others would, 
But '11 choose t'-suffer with me, 

An' f er me when I aint good. 

Then I want t'-quit the cussed 

Hull infernal balk, an' go 
On jes' like my Master tells me, 

If it's goin' fast er slow. 
An' a-thinkin', an' a-talkin' 

T'-myself t'day, I jest 
Says, I wonder if it aint with 

Me like 'tis with all the rest. 



Si 



THE HEART'S WIRELESS 

Voices recorded upon the heart's wireless, 
Infinite voices sweep Infinite sky, 

And throb through the spirit-enveloping at- 
mosphere, 
Breath of the innermost, real you and I. 

Messages come from the ungarnered, limit- 
less 
Fields white for harvest, that God's angels 
own, — 
Messages clear, and indelibly written as 
Though by an iron pen graven in stone. 

Every heart's innermost life is recorded 
where 
Angels alone can the heart's record read; 
They read the thought while we hear the 
word spoken, and 
They read the motive while we see the 
deed. 

Voices, Voices, I wait for your messages 
That I may know what I should know to- 
day, 
And heed not appearance, but judge right- 
eous judgment. — 
Reveal what eye sees not, what tongue can- 
not say. 

Show to humanity human-heart mystery, 

Thus making void what regret cannot slay. 
Sad were our lot should we be judged alone 
by the 
Deeds that we do, and the words that we 
say. 

92 



SHIPS AT SEA. 

' 'Every sailor in the port 

Knows that I have ships at sea 

Of the winds and waves the sport, 
And the sailors pity me." — Selected, 

Sons of storm-blown ocean here, 
Though my ships are far at sea, 

I would not that ye should fear, 
Neither sigh nor pity me. 

Where the clouds hang deep and dark 
Over foam and seething waste, 

I can see near each lone bark 
One sure Help in pity haste. — 

He whose heart beats down the storm 
As His footsteps tread its wrath: 

White and still the heart and form, 
And the waters in His path. 

And my ships may, one and all, 
Follow peace, and never veer 

From this calm, though loud winds call, 
And the waves rage far and near. 

Pass to others, sailor true, 

This good word I send to thee, — 

He whose life no changes knew, 
Nor can know, still walks the sea, 



93 



DAVID AND ABSALOM 

Born of unlawful wedlock, 

Son of the heathen wife : 
His face fair as the morning, 

His heart like midnight strife. — ■ 
Absalom, the winning, 

You sought but fame and pelf ; 
Absalom, the faithless, 

Why, why destroy yourself? 

And David cried, "0 would to 

God I had died for thee." 
He knew how Absalom was 

Bound by iniquity 
Before his birth and after 

Thro' all his life — could he, 
The father lift up holy, 

Unstained hands, and go free? 

Today, as thro' the ages 

Since guile in Eden won, 
How many weeping Davids 

Own Absalom as "son". 
And think you the Eternal, 

Who doeth all things well, 
Lifts David unto Heaven, 

Sees Absalom in Hell 

Forever? — Nay! God's marvels 

Within the veil are wrought; 
And even here His dealings 

Reach far above our tho't: 
Much more when earth's rude tangles 

Beyond the earth are bro't 
Shall His love seek and free us 

If sought, — or tho' unsought. 

94 



THEIR GIFT. 

What need of spices, — aloes, myrrh — ? 

The heart was broken, still and cold, 
That they had loved in secret and 

In fear and shame thro' days of old ; 
And one for cowardice had crept 

By night into the Shepherd's fold 
Who spake as never man spake. Now 
These bring the spices, tear, and vow. 

To one past need — betrayed and sold. 

And none made bold to chide the waste 

Of costly spices, and complain 
As heretofore when one poured forth 

Her rare perfume not yet in vain; 
For He was with them yet, — tho' bowed 

To earth by earth's great debt and bane. — - 
But now the load was cast away, 
The heavy debt was paid, yet they 

Recalled His life and all His pain, 

And sought to check decay where Death 

Was slain and void and had no power, 
Where Life drew near the bloodless clay 

To claim her mighty, conquering hour. 
Your gifts, men, were better giv'n 

To those who still before Death cow'r. 
Today, men of fear and pride, 
You tread the thronged path and wide 

While loved ones lone meet death's dark 
hour. 



95 



NEAR AND FAR 

Go, search and find where heart meets heart 

As eye meets eye today, 
And bid me come, but bring me not 

To where the leaden, gray, 
Cold mists range wide, or mass themselves 

In fancy's weird array: 
Better be near, tho' very far, 

Than near yet far away. 

bid me come where music swells 
With pow'r no hand may stay 

Within the heart's deep-hidden vales 

As torrents find their way, 
Bearing the pent and stifling dross 

In unresisted sway — 

1 would be near tho' very far; 
Yes near, not far away : 

For if I hear, as twilight falls, 

Those strains not for the gay, 
My heart shall leap the shadowed main 

And forest isles that stray 
Twixt soul and soul, — a winged thing 

That leagues may not delay — 
So to be near tho' very far ; 

Yes near, not far away. 

Or tell me where joy's high bells swing 

In wild and stirring play; 
And may I hear the glad pulse beat 

I seek not to betray; 

9G 



And may I see the dawn rise full 
In view, and lose no ray : — 

Blest to be near tho' very far, 
Yes near, not far away. 

And I would go where sorrow's blade 

Has been, has sought to slay, 
And on the spirit's harrowed gash 

My yearning spirit lay, 
So that thro' me a strength might go 

To stanch the bloody fray : — 
sweet to be thus near, tho' far, 

Yes near, not far away ! 

Would I had thrown all masks aside, 

As in God's time I may, — 
Had always lived to show the grace 

My tongue can never say. 
Would that my spirit might from far 

Greet all who near me pray: 
Better heav'n's near, tho' very far, 

Than earth's near far away. 



97 



THE CHICKEN ROOST. 

The chickens flopped their wings, an' squalled, 

An' hopped, an' fell, an' clim' 
The ladder standin' 'gainst the tree ; 

An' then, fust t'-one lim', 
An' then another — up they went 

Es evenin' light growed dim, — 
A-tryin' alius, jest their best, 
Each t'-go higher then the rest. 

An' one poor feller, I dunno 

How menny timer he tried 
T'-go up to a broad, high branch, 

But every time he'd slide 
A-squallin' down. I guess he feared 

Thet luck w's playin' snide 
With him, an' so, ye see, he got 
What he w's lookin' f er — why not ? 

An' one mean chicken took a spite 

Again' another near, 
An' bit th' other mighty bites 

Right side o'-t'other's ear; 
An' so the wounded edged off meek, 

An' squalled in pleadin' fear, 
An' wondered, grievin' fer the smart, 
About his feller's chicken-heart. 

An' when I seen them chickens there, — 

Ambitious, spiteful flock — 
Not thinkin' 'bout the dark hours near, 

With darker storms thet rock 

98 



J he roost clean out their hold, mayhap • 

Not thinkin' how the flock 
Of deadly night-birds hovered near— 
I spoke up fer myself t'-hear, 

An' ses, ses I, They aint the fust 

'Bove ground what's fell through hate 
Er pride er envy, ner the last 

I'm feared, though times grow late. 
Ner men ner chickens seem t'-know 

They'd better hide, an' wait 
Inside the stronghold made fer night 
By them es knowed t'-see their plight, 
An' raise a shelter 'gainst the blight 
What follers all till momin' light. 



99 



JOY IS STRENGTH. 

"As one by one thy hopes depart 

Be resolute and calm: — 
Know how sublime a thing it is 

To suffer and be strong." — Selected 

Is it sublime to revel in 

The throes of grim despair when one 
By one the stars of hope have set 

And left us night without a sun ? 
Yet men have suffered, and were strong 

In peril's hour, in pain, in death: — 
Ask such if fading eyes saw not 

Sweet life beyond the flames' fierce breath. 

Truly no human heart has yet 

Found any help in woe and pain. — 
Who warms the viper in his breast 

Must feel its deadly fang and bane. 
None may defy the lightning's blade, 

Or mock when smitten by its power. 
None who have sought in stoic calm 

Or arrogance the fatal hour. 

Be humble, true, and know that yet 

Never has one of human-kind 
Been left so utterly undone, 

Forsaken, lost, wrecked, ruined, blind 
But Hope may yet walk hand in hand 

With him, and lead him all the length 
Of life's unending path as Lord 

Of lords, whose joy shall be his strength. 



100 



EASTER. 

When the trembling heart bends low 

To receive its load of sin ; 
When the turbid floods o'erflow 

All the promised land within; 
When the pulse beats slow and chill 

Thro' the waste spread far and wide- 
Then is Jesus mocked and scourged, 

There is Jesus crucified. 

When the sun is seen no more, 

And the soul that sought the night, 
Drifting to the unseen shore, 

Dreams of God's past day of light, 
Yet returns to deeper gloom 

From the light long since denied — 
Then is Jesus spit upon, 

There is Jesus crucified. 

Lay Him in the sepulcher; 

Seal the stone as best ye may ; 
Set a guard, and make it sure 

From the first to the third day; 
But the weary watch shall sleep, 

Heav'n shall be no more defied, — 
Then shall Jesus live and move 

Where He once was crucified. 

Angels clad in dazzling white 

Must roll every stone away, 
Where our Lord and Life doth sleep, 

On God's balmy Easter Day: 
Then the desert shall rejoice, 

And its bloom and song spread wide- 
Then shall Jesus reign alway 

Where He once was crucified. 
101 



DAY DREAMS 

They dreamed while yet the sun shone wide 

On wood and village, vale and lea, — 
Ere yet on twilight's slumberous tide 

Embarked the careworn spirit free. — 
They dreamed, and but the lowly cot 

Still watched beside the wave-strewn sea, 
While each from far his treasures brought, 

And hailed the dawn of joy to be. 

She dreamed, — a child, who wandered lone 

Near to the river's sounding tide. 
Where tall the whispering rush had grown 

She leaned with wondering eyes and wide 
Above the sedgy wild bird's nest: 

She turned the rude, bent reed aside: 
The soft hand tender, timorous pressed 

The fluttering wings where none might 
chide. 

She said, "The mother bird has flown, 

Her birdlings cry to me for food. 
Shall they not be, as now, my own 

Hence many happy hours and good, 
Till strong, swift pinions wing the blue, 

In vain by foemen's dart pursued? — 
I shall call home when falls the dew 

My wonder-telling, grateful brood." 

And one with pain of heart and care 
Sore spent, upon the mountain side 

Toiled on with downcast eyes, though fair, 
That rained swift tears they might not 
hide. 

102 



But youth looks forward, and the boy 

Now dreams of heights spread near and 
wide 

Where clear winds sweep the land and sky, 
Far-blown from Ocean's unseen tide. 

'The land and sea are filled with light, 

So let the sailor's dreaming be!" 
He cried, nor saw that coming night 

Must prove his fierce Gethsemane. 
gilded treasures in the hold, 

The sailor dreams not now of thee, 
He joys to clasp his warm heart's gold 

In morrow's port beyond the sea. 

And age, storm-bowed, must needs dream on : 

The man and woman hale, yet worn, 
Recall the long dream well-nigh gone, 

And rosy June of thorns unshorn. 
He said, "The heavens show much of blue, 

And ruddy sunset tells of morn, 
Whose gray mists break in sun anew 

On Sharon's Rose that knows no thorn." 



1.03 



HOPE 

What think you when, at evening time, 

The large red sun stoops low to lay 

His burden fair of sea and sky 

And earth upon the lap of night 

With looks of fond farewell, — as when 

A mother bends to gaze with kind 

Regret upon the little face 

Grown calm in sleep, which she can see 

No more till morrow dawns — what think 

You then ? Do you sometimes behold 

Within a darkening brain the light 

Of some large hope and late, deferred, 

Retiring, lost? Aye, even so, 

Yet look again, and see beyond, 

And written o'er the ruddy west 

The promise of a glad new dawn. 

But nighttime intervenes. — Ah, well, 

So it must be : — Yet night has stars 

Unless, indeed it chance to be 

A night gone mad with cloud and storm, — 

But storm and cloud shall fade and flee ; 

And after that, the calm, the still 

Small Voice. 

And so, as twilight falls 
And night, would I might speak where swift 
And burning tears rain down from eyes 
All wild, whose tears no respite gain; 
Where lips grown firm and white move not 
In prayer ; where tearless eyes and wide 
Behold no light; where ribald jest 
And laughter loud smite on the heart 
Like dirges wailed by fierce despair : — 
104 



Tonight would I might say to these, 

And unto all, — Look up and see, 

The ,eye of Hope is not put out; 

The voice of Hope that none may still 

Yet calls to you, — hear her voice. 

And I would plead with all tonight 

Who drift afar, or wander lone 

On midnight land and seas, and say, — 

Why beat your heart out 'gainst the night? 

"Your strength is to be still", and know 

That quietness and confidence 

Still clasps the hand that sways, impels 

Or stays the universe. 

Thus I 
Would give as I receive tonight, 
A word of cheer, that deathless Hope 
Might quicken those about to die. 



10b 



BY THE SEA. 

Once a little boy and a little girl 

Played both by the glowing sea, 
In the golden sand that on either hand 

Spread far to the blue sky free: 
And a lone hut stood where the green dense 
wood 

Spread back far as eye could see ; 
And a garden wide lay on either side 

Just back from the sounding sea. 

Now the little boy and the little girl 

Saw dreams and signs in the sand, — 
So they traced them plain, and laughed at 
the main 
Till waves spread over their land, 
And washed round their feet, as they sought 
a retreat 
Where waters might no more roam ; 
There they climbed a rock the waves could 
not shock, 
And watched the crawling white foam. 

Then the little boy, not the little girl, 

Grew tired of the blue and gold, 
And turned back to view both the old and 
new 

Where stood the hut dark and cold. — 
O the sands grew dim, and the ocean's hymn 

Changed then to a fierce, wild moan. — 
"And how can it be he will thus leave me," 

She said, "by the sea alone?" 

106 



And the little girl could not see the boy 

Where weeds and the vines climbed high, 
Where the serpent wound through the moldy 
ground, 

And lone deepest woods spread nigh. 
She listened, and heard not a breath or word 

Come through the midsummer noon, 
Till afar on high in the evening sky 

Arose the far-away moon. 

Then, at last, she saw — saw her brother 
plain. 

Alas, a snake charmed his eye ! 
And, lo, to her side she sees its mate glide; 

She said, "And now I must die." 
the winds blew strong all the sands along, 

And wrought dire shapes, — forms of woe, 
Till the waters wild above them were piled 

Seeking to drown her heart-throe. 

And she called to him, and he called to her, 

But charms clutch the heart within; 
So they looked afar, past the wave and bar, 

To where a white sail had been; 
Lo, it came once more where it went before. — 

She said, "He seeks you and me. — 
Our Brother who sailed away never failed 

To send help over the sea/' 



107 



GOD'S WAY NOT OURS 

"Wounds of the soul tho' healed will smart; 
The blushing scars remain and make con- 
fession. 
Lost innocence returns no more, — 

We are not what we were before trans- 
gression." — Selected. 

"Tho" your sins be as scarlet they shall be as 
white as snow." — Isaiah. 

And are they healed, the wounds that show 

and smart? 
What is the soul ? Is it the whole or part 
Of this strange being that must live for- 
ever? 
And, if it is, what of the wider life 
That we are told knows not of earthly strife 
When it has passed away, remembered 
never, 

If innocence when lost returns no more ? 
If man is just and happy as before 

Never again, free never from transgres- 
sion, 
Then plans divine, defeated, are despoiled ; 
Thro' guile the Heart Omniscient has been 
foiled ; 
High-handed Curse triumphant takes pos- 
session. 

"Not so, — the dark environs of our sphere 
With limitations hamper us while here," 

108 



You say, "when we have passed the sad 
condition 
That masters this unhappy earthly lot 
We shall be glorified as we could not 

Be here thro' pain or striving or contri- 
tion." 

Is this then, from which innocence has fled 
Of earth? — That part of the immortal dead 
Which lives not any more? Is there a 
part of 
This living being capable of sin 
That shall be so interred, — left lifeless in 
The earth from which it sprang ? bleed- 
ing heart of 

The Christ, the Son of God, why did You 

come 
To heal us with Your stripes if never from 
The curse You save? Without You we 

are free when 
We leave this clay as "dust to dust" if crime 
Springs from and goes to earth; but 0, the 

time 
We suffer here! Shall nought relieve 

earth's season 

Of bitterness, the wages of our sin? 
When did Christ say that stain alone dwells 
in 
Dumb clay sent silent and unwept to 
sleep, or 
That flesh responds at all to guilt? He said, 
"Flesh profits nothing." From within are 
fed 
And thence proceed the ills that mortals 
weep for. 

109 



TW every man be false let God be true: 
His Word is verified to me and you 

Daily. We dwell, then, in a temple fash- 
ioned 
From dust that serves the will of him within, 
The hidden man that has forever been 

Alive, and ever shall be, tho' impassioned 

Ofttimes by evil rising out of hell, 
Not from the breathless clod insensible. 

To Christ has all authority been given 
On earth as well as heav'n where He 
Reigns high, supreme ; where we expect to be 

With Him as glorified, all shackles riven, 

But why are they not riven now and here? 
Christ dwells in us if evil, not His peer, 

Has been cast out, ejected by His spirit. 
Why should the curse be on us if We will 
To do His bidding? Does His heart not fill 

The Universe, — are we not ever near it? 

Anear and all engulfed by God are We; 
With ears that hear not, eyes that Will not 

see, 
And feet that walk forbidden paths. We 

cavil, 
And wonder at "God's ways" which are our 

own, 
Not His. Master, make each heart Thy 

throne, 
And end at once earth's mystery and 

travail ! 



no 



IN SCHOOL 

Sometimes when school is over 

And shades of night appear 
I sit in the empty school-room, 

And everything looks drear. — 
The day seems full of failures, 

Its triumphs hide away, 
And seemingly defeated, 

I leave at close of day. 

The world is new next morning- 

Old griefs have taken wing; 
All nature seems reposing, 

And all things smile and sing: 
And when I reach the school-room 

I look in vain for drear 
And telltale mad disorder — 

There are no such things here. 

The touch of God's sweet moments 

Has pressed the wrinkles out: 
Rest brings a sweet forgiveness 

That puts old foes to rout ; 
And yesterday's real triumphs, 

Tho' small and feebly wrought, 
Stand out unvailed, unmarred, and 

Look better than I tho't. 

We mortals are so hampered 

Thro' these poor school-time days 
In which we learn of heaven 

The song of future praise, 
That, having eyes, we see not 

What good 'gainst odds is wrought 
Till heaven shall make our earth-task 

Look better than we tho't. 

in 



FOURTH OF JULY 

I'm rather glad it's sunny, 

And early breezes cool 
Come wandering in the window.— 

It's generally the rule 
That morning comes out brilliant, 

And skies look blue and dry 
That weep and pout at evening 

On hot Fourth-of-July. 

I don't care much about it 

If rain and storm come now: 
I know the time I did, though, 

When 'twould have raised a row 
All through my rising spirit, 

And I'd been sure to cry 
If morning turned out stormy 

On grand Fourth-of-July. 

I wasn't thinking then why 

We went to hear the roar 
Of cannon and the speeches 

For hours — less or more: — 
But One who gives all freedom 

Saw my young heart's great joy, 
And heard it's deep thanksgiving 

On glad Fourth-of-July. 

But now-days when I think folks 
Are apt to spoil their eyes, 

Or shoot a mortal limb off, 
Or head, or otherwise, — 
112 



I almost take to wishing 
That morning's cloudy sky 

Would care to pour wet daggers 
On mad Fourth-of-July. 

So that's the different view folks 

Will take at different times: 
And only One will ever 

See days and hearts and climes 
Just as they really should be 

Seen, not through partial eyes,- 
And He must judge for final 

All Fourths of all Julys. 



113 



AT LAST 

You've been insulted, lied about, 

Cheated and kicked — Well, well that's bad ! 

It just seemed sometimes that the world 
Poured out the vilest dose it had, 

And made you swallow every drop, 

And laughed because you looked so sad. 

Don't doubt it, sir, but don't get cross- 
Throw all that off, — try being glad. 

You cannot find a better way 

To show or realize your spite ; 
Just have the most unbounded faith 

That joy is strength, and right makes 
might. 
Such trust can never be betrayed 

Tho' fear the oppressor's heart shall smite ; 
For truth and error must receive 

Their just reward in heav'n's clear light. 

The good Lord likes this vengeance best, 

For it has always been His way 
To somehow, sometime have us see 

Ourselves just as we are; as they 
See who have passed beyond the mist 

And fallacies of earth's foul play ; 
So that who will may ever turn 

From false to fair, from dark to day. 

You don't like that ? You'd rather take 
It "eye for eye" — Is that your view? 

Have you not heard, have you not known 
There's only One that's always true? 

114 



And some day you'll feel different 

When heav'n's search-light is turned on 
you, 

When you'll be glad to forget all 
Just as you'd like the rest to do. 



115 



THE BIRD'S NEST 

They gasped with open mouth and wide 
For very breath of life that day: 

The sun-king showered his anger down 
In many a burning, breathless ray; 

I stood beside the nut-brown nest 

Where those few fledgelings helpless lay. 

1 would not now recall the fears 
Of that lone hour long passed away, 
For since has dawned a better day. 

The mother bird in trembling haste 
Drew near with piteous, pleading cry 

To guard her hapless birdling's bed, 
Yet bro't no shade or shelter nigh. 

Thou who seest even the fall 

Of sparrows; and dost hear their cry 
When hearts "of much more value" faint, 
Canst Thou leave any thus to die? 
Dost Thou not look with pitying eye? 

1 cried, and, shuddering, turned aside 

And left the stifling birdlings there.— 
I wonder now how God regards 

Such agonized yet faithless prayer: — 
For my tho't was then of those 

Who meet the tempter, they who bear 
The burden and the scorching beat 

Of fiercest noontide's with'ring glare. 

Where are they now? — The birdlings, 
where ? 

116 



Long since they left the low brown nest. 

How they survived that awful day 
I do not know. A still small Voice 

Explains as only silence may 
The patient working of that Power 

That made them strong to fly away. 
I doubt not they have soared long since 

'Midst woodland shade thro' all the day 
Where countless mighty voices still 

Own Love's eternal, conquering sway, 

And sound abroad the victor's lay. 

Where Elim scorns the desert vast 

Some heart secure beneath its palm 
Has found long since a fair repose 

Forsaken of the throe and qualm; 
For thirst has found fresh waters deep, 

And strife is lost in sweet, new calm. 
every heart shall find at last 

Somehow, somewhere, a healing balm; 

And lift to heaven the victor's psalm. 



117 



A TRUE STORY. 

Some little boys walked up a hill 

And, as they reached the top, 
One seized a handful of road dust, 

And sent it with a flop 
Right straight into the sunny blue 

Of brother Johnnie's eyes; 
And Johnnie howled in helpless rage, 

And yelled in pained surprise. 

Twas that same day, I think, or at 

The most a day or so 
Just afterward, that this same boy 

Played out with Dick and Joe 
And Tom and Bill, when all at once 

I heard a lusty cry, 
And hooting jeers: — They said, "0 come 

And see the clown ! 0, my !" 

And, as I neared the door, I saw 

A black-faced, dusty boy ; 
A shovelful had blown and lodged 

In nose and mouth and eye: — 
No one had meant to seek revenge, 

Or to hurt the little chap, 
But he had viewed their game unseen, 

And met this sad mishap. 

And, as he washed the streaks of mud 
From nose and mouth and chin, 

They all recalled with laugh and shout 
How short the time had been 

118 



Since he had thrown the dust into 

His brother Johnnie's face 
Just purposely, though none had meant 

To bring him to disgrace. 



Did you, my brother, ever reach 

The brow of some low hill, 
Walking beside your fellow man, 

Treating your brother ill? — 
You just look out! for sure as sure, 

There's always some road down 
And through the valley, where you'll go, 

A black-faced, sneaking clown. 



119 



WHAT PAYS 

Why don't I frown to meet a frown? 

Why don't I howl when others bray ? 
Why don't I throw mud-balls, and make 

My hands and heart as vile as they 
Who aimed at me? — So I have done — 

God grant that on no future day 
May I betray myself again — 

I might, but then it wouldn't pay. 

The man who gives his life for men 

When ill betides, or treads the maze 
Of desert paths all others shun; — 

A martyr soul thro' years and days — 
The mother whose love wearies not 

Tho' worlds of woe that love betrays; 
Have these but sold their lives in vain? 

No, they have not; it pays! it pays! 

It seems to me the Lord of light 

When Heav'n and earth anew are made, 
And all the gloom of earth is past 

That made His children sore afraid — 
It seems to me the Father then, 

When shadows are dispelled, and fade 
'Round Calv'ry and Gethsemane, 

Will cry with us, "It paid! It paid!" 



120 



A SUMMER DAY 

The day was long and heavy with 

The burden of the summer's heat, 
The way was lone and thorny, and 

The hot sand stretched before your feet ; 
And you were tempted sore and tried — 

You yielded to the tempter's sway, 
And frowned on those that crossed your path 

Who scattered briars on your way. 
At last the quiet stars looked down 

Into your spirit's surging deep — 
Tho' you were worn and faint and sad 

They would not let the weary sleep. — 
And then you cried in bitter tears : 

"Forgive me, God, as I forgive!" — 
The clouds were rifted, and your heart 

Began to beat again, and live. 
Ah, yes, I know your story well; — 

I know not, nor can any say 
How many times each heart repeats 

The story of your summer day. 



121 



HUMANITY 

I saw him when he stood among 

The honored great men of his day ; 
When men thronged round his feet, and 
sought 

In pageant, pomp, and weak display 
To give due fame to his high name, 

And skyward yelled their feverish rage, 
Proclaiming far and near his worth 

As statesman, orator and sage. 

I saw him as he stood above 

The rabble on his self -built tower, 
When men knew not, nor cared to know 

How he had builded in that hour 
When heart and nerve as mortar serve 

To rear foundations laid in night, — 
When men saw not the painful hours 

Whose labor sought and gained the light. 

But now he breathed in heaven's own blue 

Above the night, above the jeers 
That urged him on, when faint and weak 

Below the throng he wrought in tears. — 
That crowd now stood, a beggar brood, 

And craved to feed upon his word 
Like lowly Lazarus at the gate. 

He knew their hearts and lives. I heard 

His voice ring out in clearest tones: — 
"My friends," he said, "I say to you 

The cloudless sky has ever been, 
Shall ever be as now, sky-blue. 

122 



The sun and moon, the wind and tide 
Proclaim that one and one are two." 

He paused, while all heads low and tall 
Approval bowed. Heads black and white 

Were nodded each to each, as all 

Cried out, "Hear, hear! That's so! He's 
right!" 

Again he spoke, — he said, "My friends, 

That God created you and me 
Is just as true : — Our Father then 

He ever has been, and must be: 
And friends, 'tis true, therefore, that you 

And I are brothers, low or high." 
A roar of joy went up. — They cried, 

"That's so, dear brother in the sky." 



123 



FORGETFULNESS 

The patient hand of Time has reached 

And drawn the sting from many a heart; 
And if some venom yet remain, 

Tis but a small and dwindling part 
Of the first woe. The noonday sky 

Has cast aside the midnight blast, 
And smiles to say that all its war 

Of yesternight is of the past. 
The bitter word of yesterday 

Had perished ere its swift sun set, 
For time and change control our world, 

And it is well we can forget. 

The friends of other years are gone, 

Their smiles and tears are left behind 
The warm caress, the tender tone 

Are in the past, and out of mind: — 
They whose fond words were to the heart 

As air and sunshine are to life, — 
How has their mem'ry slipped away, 

As summer's evening void of strife 
When, ere one can believe, the full 

And silent sun has smiled — and set. 
O Godlike spirit linked to dust, 

How strange it is that ye forget! 

O Thou with whom a thousand years 
Are but an evening watch when past, 

May we behold Thy life of life, 

And dwell within Thy heart at last, 

124 



It seems, somehow, that fuller life 

Must take us o'er the past again, 
Must make these earthly years divine — 

Give peace for strife and weal for pain ; 
And when the mystery is solved, 

And every woe and heartache met, 
And recompensed, then, dear Lord, 

If it be well may we forget. 



125 



THE EARTHWORM 

He laid an' wiggled on my hand, 

An' stretched himself out long an' thin, 
An' thickened up again in curls 

An' ridges wavin' out an' in: 
An* so I lets him cave, an' go 

This way an' that, an' toss about, 
Fer that's the way that earthworms like 

T'-do a-weavin' in an' out. 
I aint no idee these here worms 

Air skeert er put out — not a mite; 
But this one, he jes' didn't know 

I meant t'-treat him fair an' right. 

Now angle worms don't do no harm: 

They say they do a lot-o' good, 
Exceptin' when they're danglin' on 

A hook an' line where no worm should. 
I mind the time I w's a child — 

I'd push-'em on the hook jes' so, 
No matter how they wrinkled up, 

An' sort-o' said it hurt t'-go. 
But now I feel a cavin' in 

All through my vitals, while I wish 
I hadn't hurt the crawlin' worm, 

An' hadn't fooled the scuddin' fish. 

Why, these here worms they till the s'ile, 
The same es human diggers do, 

Though mebby they don't understand 
The reason of it through an' through; 

126 



An', come t'-think, now I declare, 

I don't believe us mortals know 
The half of what an' why we reap, 

The half of what an' why we sow. 
An' so I stood there, an' I thought 

Them thoughts us earthly, delvin' ones 
Think sometimes, when our blinded eyes 

Look up, an' see night's blinkin' suns. 

An' then I wondered t'-myself, 

An' talkin' t'-myself, I sed, — 
I wonder now, if mebby I 

Hev tried, like this poor worm, t'-red 
Myself o'-some strong, friendly hand, 

An' care thet waited fer t'-bless, 
An' flopped about, an' tumbled low, 

Because I hadn't sense t'-guess 
The kindness that the strong hand meant. 

I don't expect right soon t'-know, 
But I larnt one good lesson then, 

B'fore I let the earthworm go. 

I larnt o'-One, the One, I know, 

Es hates not enny o'-them all 
Thet air His own, er man er worm, 

Er great an' high, er low an' small. 
I know His hand ken reach far out 

An' over all, an' lift the strong, 
An' bear the weak, an' weary not: 

An' speed the right, an' stay the wrong: 
Fer sometimes I wake up, an' find 

This hand above blue heaven's breast- 
This hand below all mortal woe, 

An' then I lean down hard, an' rest. 



127 



THE SILLY TELLTALE GRIN 

It ain't s'-bad t'-meet a man 

Thet shakes bold fists at you, 
An' calls ye "Liar! Coward! Thief!" 

An' thumps ye one er two; 
Fer you ken meet sich words an* acts 

Half-way, an' answer back, — 
Though if you use his arguments, 

It only shows your lack 
O'-sense: — but when ye don't know what 

Ye've done o'-mortal sin, 
It's kindy hash t'-go abroad, 

An' meet a telltale grin. 

The empty, knowin' grin thet says, 

"I've heard a lot o'-tales 
Thet naber Smith an' Jones sent out, 

All winged with make-sport sails. 
You don't know what yer nabers say 

O'-sich a funny man 
Es you be." But the grin aint words 

To prove false, if you ken: 
You can't refute, ner answer sich, 

But, through the thick an' thin, 
All ye ken do is t'-square off, 

An' answer with a grin. 

Fer naber Smith, an' Jones, an' Brown 
An' all them thoughtless chaps, 

Tomorrow '11-feel different, 
An' love ye lots, perhaps: — 

They will if you don't make yerself 
A pigmy fer their sakes; 

128 



They will if you lean on the arm 
O'-truth, thet never breaks, 

They will if you love everyone, 
An' only hate the sin, — 

Love everyone thet meets ye with 
The silly, telltale grin. 



129 



DOIN'S AN' DOER 

Wonder if y'-ever noticed 

When yer shellin' beans er peas, 
Er, perhaps, a'washin' dishes 

Jes' es handy es ye please, 
How y'-sometimes git a'-talkin' 

T-yerself about yer work, 
Sayin', "Tell-y', I work lively, 

I aint never been no shirk." 

An' that minnet in steps naber 

Smith a-smilin' bland on you, 
Jes' t'-see how yer soul prospers, 

An' t'-notice what y'-do. 
An' y '-think, "Now I'll jes' show her, 

Lazy, good-fer-nothin' spy, 
How much work she'd do at home if 

Once she'd work es fast es I." 

An' suppose yer at the dishes, 

An' y'-make a lightnin' dab 
Fer a plate, er cup, er sasser, 

An' it slips frum out yer grab, 
An' goes dashin' all t'-pieces — 

Yes, it alius goes that way, 
An' yer naber, she's "so sorry" — 

How y'-wisht she'd go away! 

An' next day she comes t'-give-y' 
Sich a good big mess o'-greens, 

An' yer busy gittin' dinner, 
Shellin' of the peas an' beans: 

130 



An' afore she comes, yer thinkin', 
Bout how fast yer fingers fly, 

An* a'-sayin\ "Who on airth cud 
Make beans rattle fast es I?" 

But it seems the very minnet 

Naber Smith's inside the door 
Every pod '11 stick an' scatter 

Es it never did b'fore. 
An' she takes a-hold, an' helps-y', 

Cause her dinner's under way, 
An' she aint jes' real pertic'ler 

'Bout the time o'-meals t'day. 

Yes, ye'v' noticed— leastwise I hev— 

Thet it never pays t'-boast; 
Its the doin's, not the doer 

Thet folks likes t'-see the most. 
It's the ones thet's meek en lowly, 

An' stays kindy out o'-sight 
Thet the crowd er soon er late-'ll 

Boost es high es Franklin's kite. 



131 



GOOD AND BAD 

I used to think that men are good 
Or bad just as they choose to be, 

But I was younger then than now, 
And somewhat smaller, too, you see. 

I thought the good man should be cheered 
By smiles along a rose-strewn way; 

I thought the bad man should be scorned 
And frowned upon from day to day. 

But now I've seen enough of earth, 
Though much is dim to mortal eye, 

To know that if I had your place, 
And you had mine, why you'd be I 

And I'd be you: and our just God 
Would look in pity then, as nov 

On both, and love us still, and hear 
Each breathe his kept and broken vow. 

I cannot think that God loves you 

Or me alone, or either most; 
Though heaven must turn, heart-sick, away 

When "bad men" curse, when "good men" 
boast. 

I am not good, you are not bad, 
But One is good: all we are kin. 

"Good men" at times, will fail their friends 
Where "bad men" scorn the traitor's sin. 

If we could only see ourselves 

As He in whom we move and live 

Sees us, we'd fill the hours with love, 
Though each must often much forgive. 

132 



UNREMUNERATIVE. 

What makes good folks like me an' you 

Make sich a mortal-rousin' fuss, 
An' fume around an' say sich things 

A-mutterin', an' sort-o' cuss 
That wordless cussin' o' the soul 

Thet makes ye shiver when yer through, 
An' wisht ye hadn't sold s'-cheap, 

An' wish it mighty, yes, we do. 

Of course the world aint treated me 

An' you jes' fair, an' real perlite: 
Some folks keep busy spinnin' yarns 

Es mean es false from dawn till night; 
But when ye stoop t'-strike-'em back, 

It's more uncomfortable that way 
Then t'-be a football, pincushion, 

Doormat, er anything they say. 



133 



DON'T TELL NOBODY 

Now this old Earth, he looks some fair 

An* smilin' of a-Sunday, 
But when ye strike his other mood, 

It's middlin' sure blue Monday : 
An' if ye rest yer throbbin' head 

The one day 'gainst his shoulder, 
Ye'll wisht ye hadn't, when, the next, 

Ye find yer one day older. 
Don't mind it much, ner hate no one 

When ye find most folks some shoddy, 
An' if yer hurt from toe t'-crown 

Now don't ye tell nobody. 

Ye see, folks aint s'-differ'nt-like 

Es what ye've thought about 'em: 
Though some air wise, an' great, an' grand, 

Ye sure c'n live without 'em ; 
Fer they aint one mite better off, 

Ner higher up, ner lower 
Then what ye be, er what ye'd be 

Ef once ye hit their floor. 
So don't ye envy mortal men 

Ef they be plain er gaudy, 
But smile a lot at all the town, 

An' don't lean on nobody. 

Most folks, they hev the'r aches an' woes, 

The'r hopes, an' fears, an' gladness; 
An' when yer round among 'em try 

T'-share the'r joys an' sadness: 
Fer joy is doubled, so they say, 

An' grief is cut asunder, 
Ef one-'ll only lift a mite, 

An' share jes' right, ner blunder: 

134 



But don't ye say a word of self,— 
Jes' let th' mortal squad be, 

Er give yer joys, but hide th' smart, 
Don't show it to nobody. 

B'cause it wont help no one much 

T-hear thet you're unhappy, 
An'^ least of all 'twill help yerself 

T'-get upset, an' snappy 
A-lettin' everybody know 

Th' woes thet they don't care fer: 
Your story they'll misunderstand, 

An' twist yer whys an' wherefer, 
An' tell it so :— then you will find 

Yer misery more then double: 
You'd better whisper it to God, 

Ef you would lose yer trouble. 



135 



THE ROAD AND THE HILL. 

If you're walking along on a plain, level road 
You feel safe when your feet touch the 
ground ; 
But you may stub your toe if you don't watch 
your steps, 
If you look much above or around : 
But your toe wont complain, — you can pick 
yourself up 
And you wont be hurt much, if at all ; 
And the people who travel along your high- 
way 
Wont remember or mock at your fall. 

But it isn't the same when you're climbing, 
you know, 
Where each mortal must blaze his own 
way, 
For there's no traveled road to the top of the 
hill 
Where earth gives wreaths of laurel 
away. — 
0, of course, you can rise in a grand aeroplane 

And sail over the mountain most tall : — 
Your airship must descend, — so must you, 
late or soon, 
And you'll not rise again if you fall. 

But, in climbing, the stones slip from under 
your feet, 
And each step is prayer-tears or prayer- 
sighs, 

136 



And a man often sees he can not reach the 
top 
Until after, long after, he dies: 
For the world will not honor you much while 
you live, 
Striving upward at duties clear call, 
But the many will see it, and sound it afar, 
If you trip on the hillside and fall. 



13? 



A SMILE. 

I think folks nearly alius 

Ken understand a smile, 
Though some, like me, looks homely, 

Seems-like, most all the while, 
But wh'n they take t'-smilin', 

Why all the rest smiles too; 
An' seem t'-say in that way, 

"Ye look good now, ye do." 

Sometimes I aint no better 

In any mortal way,— 
Don't wish no better wishes 

Fer them fer whom I pray 
Often, but when I'm smilin' 

They seem t'-read th'-truth 
Quicker, — it helps-'m better 
Then sharing pain in ruth. 



138 



THRO' THE NIGHT 

"Jehovah caused the sea to go back by a 

strong east wind all that night, and made 

the sea dry land, and the waters were 

divided." Exodus 14:21. 

A strong east wind blew all that night, 

And none might seek their wonted sleep. 
Imploring eyes looked forth to see 

How walls were forming thro' the deep — 
Walls of unstable water piled 

On either side the mid-sea path, 
And yet they heard the wind's wild rage, 

And yet they feared grim Pharaoh's 
wrath. 

And still the wind blew mightily 

Against the wall of cloud and fire, — 
To Egypt cloud; to these a light — 

And still the wind-built walls grew high'r. 
The wall of fire swept high between 

Their fear, and Egypt's curse and boast: 
The walls of water rose before 

To save them from the pursuing host. 

But morning came, and Fear and Hope 

Fled each unto the enemy. 
Fear brought as a just recompense 

His power to spoil and slay; to free 
Hope came triumphant, mailed in light. 

How many paths go thro' time's sea 
Ah who may say, — for it is night. 



139 



THE WRENS 

Two little wrens sat on a tree 

Near by the house and talked to me 

And to themselves. They seemed to tell 

How they had tho't it might be well 

To make a nest in that old gourd 

That hung outside the white-washed board, 

Where sticks and grass had been before 

Laid just inside the round side door. 

So, wee wren, she came just to peep 

Inside the nest so snug and deep 

While he sang loud, "0 Love, hurry! 

Don't stay. Sweet, Sweet . Hurry! Hurry!" 

He kept bright eyes on me, but then 

I knew he meant his sweetheart wren, 

And so I answered not a word, 

But stood as tho' I hadn't heard, 

Still as a stone, until she flew 

Away to tell him that she knew 

They couldn't find a better nest 

Or better home in which to rest. 

And after that on many a day 

I heard him sing the same wild lay, 

So often was this timid bird 

By real and fancied dangers stirred, 

Warbling out his frenzied flurry — 

"0 come, Sweet, Sweet. Hurry! Hurry!" 

140 



Weeks after this the little wren 

And his wee mate I saw again, 

Day after day so busy kept, 

Flying with worms and bugs that crept 

Among the leaves.— They took them home 

To baby wrens not fit to roam 

From out the nest. And then there came 

The day when tender, weak, and tame, 

With flutt'ring wing and tott'ring feet 

The babies left their home retreat, 

Answ'ring thus the note of worry, 

"Come, come, Sweet, Sweet, Hurry ! Hurry !" 



141 



STORM AND SEA 

I saw upon the sea 

Where winds blow wide and free 

A mariner put out 

With song, and jest and shout; 

And as he sailed away 

I heard him lightly say, — 

4 'My little craft seeks home 

Helped on by blast and foam. 

The wayward waves that beat 

Around me still more fleet 

Urge on to port and peace, 

And to the storm's surcease." 

I saw another bark 
Upon the ghostly, dark, 
Remorseful wave that wailed 
To all who watched or sailed. 
From out his thrall, the sea, 
The sailor called to me 
And said, "I stretch my hands 
To welcome fairer lands 
That rise and gleam in sight 
Dimly beyond the night; 
But winds and waves in wiath 
Drive thwart my homeward path." 

Another day rose bright 
And sky and sea were light 
And filled with peace and rest 
Even as a mother's breast 

142 



Whereon her infant lies. 
An echo from the skies 
Gave back to fisher crew 
Their song and word so truer — 
"Our Help," they sang-, "still treads 
The wave the seaman dreads ; 
He rules the raging deep 
For all who sail and weep." 



143 



A PARABLE 

A young hart grazed beside a stream: 
The infant morning's tender beam 

Shone round him fair ; 
And to the stilly water's breast 
Their lambent lips the sunbeams pressed 

While trembling there. 

And like some fleeing ponderous dream, 
That full, unsounded, mighty stream 

Swept slowly on. 
The young hart often came to see 
His lithe form floating gracefully 

The waters on. 

He came to see, also to taste 

The refreshing liquid mirror chaste, 

Deep drafts to take 
Of sweet and living purity, 
Whose sunny ripples glad and free 

All thirst could slake: 

For springtime's morning-thirst might take 
Its fill, nor could the noontime wake 

A flame-pent kind, 
But without price might be supplied 
From this unfathomed, ceaseless tide: 

And fullness find. 

But winding banks flashed bright with dew 
Where verdure sprang and wild flowers grew. 
The young hart turned 

144 



More quickly ever toward the mead 
From that for which with burning need 
The many yearned. 

The hunger and the thirst he knew 

Were filled and quenched by flowers and dew. 

The morning passed, 
For earth's fresh morning soon must fade, 
And low by noon's fierce dart be laid — 

Breathless at last. 

The hart had wandered from the stream, 
For youth will tread as in a dream, 

Its rose-hued path, 
Nor see near tides of ill run high, 
Nor how the sun fades from the sky 

In tempest's wrath. 

With joy he left the river-side, 

And through the brake where dangers hide 

More slowly passed 
Till full in view a forest old 
Deep and mysterious shadows cold 

Around it cast. 

With fainting breath he turned, to learn 
His former path with shrub and thorn 

Was hedged and lost. 
Whence had he come, and whither could 
His pathway tend save where the wood 

Loomed dark across. — 

And no retreat, but on and on 
Through stifling brake of fervid sun 

Alone must he 
With many fears and heart-ache pass : 
Now far away the stream, alas, 

Flows tranquilly. 

145 



He paused, and prayed in mute despair 
For old-time friends now happy there 

By that still tide: 
No answer came; but a cry filled 
With horror smites his heart thus stilled 

As faint hope dies : — 

For far away, yet grown less dim 
And clearer ever came to him 

The hound's deep bay: 
Now sweeping nearer in the chase 
They come: — For life, for life the race! 

Away, away! 

He sped as only they can speed 

Whom Death pursues, and Life doth lead, 

Past bush and thorn ; 
Nor paused again of those to d^am 
That, safely sheltered by the stream, 

He left at morn: 

But giddy, whirling visions glide 
Before him of the clear broad tide 

Now far behind : 
It seemed to offer as of old 
Freely its gift, though ail untold 

The worth Divine. 

More dense and thorn-strewn grew the way, 
And just beyond the dark wood lay 

Sombre and deep: 
Onward, still on where shades lay piled 
In midnight, where the woodnymphs wild . 

Their revels keep 

He bounded, yet more slowly sprang 
The once fleet hoofs, and nearer rang 
The deadly roar 

146 



That shuddered through the silent wood, 
A helpless sentinel that stood 
Mute evermore. 

0, joy! as stars beam through the night, 
Again before him gleams the light 

Of day in view, 
And hope once more comes with the day, 
Although alike in noontide's ray 

They faint anew. 

For now a riven canon wide 
Before him, and on either side* 

Frowns heavily ; 
Behind, and near the fierce hounds bay, 
Their hot breath rolls not far away 

Like fiery sea. 

He reels! Take courage! Then the leap! 
Safe! Safe! The fixed gulf must keep 

Forever back 
The tearing fang. What can assuage 
The loud, rude tempest of their rage, — 

The baffled pack ! 

Swooning he falls upon the rock 
That ever stands secure to mock 

His enemies. 
And then before his wearied gaze 
A rocky pathway's winding maze 

With joy he sees: 

He follows downward to the stream, 
And sees again the same old beam 

Of glory there 
That ever as a child caressed 
Smiles, sleeping on its mother's breast, 

So slumbered fair. 
147 



He drank; revived. It was the same 
To which at springtime's morn he came 

When all unknown 
Was summer's fervid noontide heat, 
Unknown the briars to the feet 

Since wandering lone. 

Far, far away in viewless mount 
There rose the storied deathless fount 

Of youth and life, 
Whose gladsome waters welled, and poured 
Down from the rocks their lavish horde 

With sunshine rife. 

And through the mead, and through the glen, 
And near the wood, and near the fen 

This river passed. 
The hart now once again possessed 
Its gift of life, and youth and rest, — 

At last, at last. 



148 



TRIAL 

If you've ever met a rascal 

Such as earth bears not a few — 
One that made folks think him honest 

While his game you saw and knew; 
And it seemed that all creation 

Helped him make a fool of you — 
When you've met and felt the poison 

Of his arrow thro' and thro', 
And the crowd turns out to shun you, 

Then God help you to be true. 

When you strike a man whose pathway 

Level meets your path askew, 
And you see his way is sunny 

While your road is deadly blue, 
And you know that your sweat nurtured 

Flow'rs that all his pathway strew; 
When he tells you that the trial 

Is perhaps the best for you, 
And your brain gets numb and dizzy, 

Then God help you to be true. 



149 



A MONIED BEGGAR 

You are! You are!! You are!!! — 

A beggar born and bred ! — 
Show me a day in which 

You have not begged for bread. 
A mother's love heav'n-strong 

First stilled your cries of need, 
Now you are fed by those 

Who, serving, faint and bleed. 

A beggar? — Yes, you are! 

A thief and liar too. 
Your outstretched hands have grasped 

A thousand fold their due: 
And now you talk of gold, 

Houses and land your own, 
Nor see yourself a vile 

Laz'rus before God's throne. 

You say, "Of all mankind 

Each must a beggar be," — 
Truth, we are debtors all 

To bird and beast and bee; 
And to the heav'ns of light 

Where clouds pour forth their rain, 
And to our fellow-man, 

Who toils with hand or brain. 

All beggars. Yes, but why 

Did you in childish greed 
Rob those whose hands were weak 

Thro' toil and pain and need? 

150 



Will Honor let you 'mong 
Your kin and clansmen rant, 

And ravage unrebuked 
A fellow mendicant? 

beggar, how will you 

Appear when with the rest, 
You bow before God's throne 

To make your last request 
If these and those rise up 

In judgment 'gainst your plea, 
And God must say, "Ye did 

Not good to these nor Me." 

What can you say or do, 

O beggar, when these show 
The long-drawn years of crime, 

And speechless wreck and woe 
Wrought by the love of self 

That stamped you with its ban,- 
How can you bear this fate, 

foolish beggar man? 



151 



THE CLOSED DOOR. 

A closed door athwart my way 
Stands, and has stood for many a day: 
I seek not, as I sought before, 
To break the iron lock and door: 
My hand holds not the unknown key, — 
The hinges may not turn for me. 

My worsted forces through the night 
Stood face to face in all the fight, 
And each against his brother fought 
In grapple fierce, and spared him not : 
And now, dear Hand, that holds the key, 
make the hinges turn for me. 

For now, as morning seeks the skies, 
It shows my dim confused eyes 
A field of gore on which they die, 
Heart clasped to pardoned heart, and cry, 
"Would we had never sought the key 
To make the hinges turn for thee." 

Come from the winds, and round me wreathe 
The bloom of life, Breath, and breathe 
Upon these slain that they may live, 
And willing service henceforth give 
Beyond the door whose golden key 
Shall make the hinges turn for me. — 

Beyond the door where foemen wait 
Who closed it first with cruel hate, 
And mocked, with fiendish jeer, my cry 
Of helplessness — yes wild and high 

152 



Arose that jeer as blood flowed free 
To make the hinges turn for me. 

Their cry has ceased, and only wrath, 

As impotent as silent hath 

Engrossed this throng whose steadfast gaze, 

Through infant morning's mist and haze, 

Beholds anear the hand and key 

That makes the door swing wide and free. 

The very hand, the very key 

That through the night I would not see, 

But left unheeded in the rear. 

patient, hopeful Love still near 

That waited long, nor lost the key 

That turns the hinge for thee and me, — 

Help secure, my heart demands 

At last that Thou must take these hands 

Potent to blight as vain to bless, 

And hold them in Thy strong caress, 

Till iron lock shall kiss the key, 

And rusted hinges turn for Thee. 



153 



THE TEACHER'S CHAIR 

They took my vacant chair unasked, — 
Two girls with eyes of brown and blue — 

And then as quickly rose unasked 
And fled, — 'tis thus all children do. 

I tho't how years and years ago 
That very chair had seemed to me 

The throne of high, becoming pow'r, 
Of ease and pomp and bigotry. 

Perhaps it now seems thus to these, 

But changed to me; I've long been there, 

And know somewhat its unknown sphere, — 
This filled or vacant teacher's chair. 



154 



THE UNEQUAL CONTEST. 

He was a wolfish-looking cur, 

And, like a hunted beast, he ran 
Past me to where the thundering train 

A few rods farther on began 
To rush across our track. He reached 

Its side where, all the while it passed, 
He stood and tried by leaps and bites 

To stop each car, and spite that vast 
And careless train. Each car sped by, 

And he came back when all were gone 
Limping, and not well satisfied 

With what he and the train had done. 

How many dogs, how many men 

Have tried, are trying, and shall try 
To stop the train that slackens not 

For their uncanny, vain outcry: 
But broken tooth and thigh confess 

The effect of unbecoming spite. — 
how can they expect to stay 

The mighty, conquering train of right: 
For sure as God is God His work 

Must run eternally, and slay 
The ill that stands beside its path, 

And gnaws and whines its life away. 



155 



BLACK AND GOLD CATERPILLAR. 

He wore a coat of black and gold 

That dark, sad, bleak November day, 
And he had worn it long, so long, 

Through all of summer's heat and fray, 
But it was handsome still and sleek 

Through all its furry waves of gold 
And black, though now so numb and chill 

In coming winter's wind and cold. 

He crawled his length upon my hand, 

And raised his head and clinging feet, 
And blindly turned him here and there 

And only saw his winding sheet 
Of frost and snow as to and fro 

He waved, and doubted if a turn 
This way or that might doom avert, 

He could not know, but fain would learn. 

caterpillar cold and weak, 

Where will you spend your night of 
storm ? 

1 cried, Shall never silken threads of hope 
Be wound about your frozen form? 

When winter hours are spent at last, 
And each shall greet our common May, 

Where shall you find your wings of gold 
With which to rise and soar away? 

Were it not well to crush you here, 
And end your weary, painful life? — 

No more could he speak than can I 

To those above our words and strife, — 

L56 



Those beings high or low, unknown 
In nature, word and power untold, 

Who may despise our lowly sphere, 

Where black will stray through all the 
gold. 

I hope, and not in vain I trust 

The Power and Might that spreads alike 
O'er seraphim and man and worm; 

Nor any 'gainst His law may strike 
One fluttering little sparrow down. 

Not hosts of night nor legions bright 
Can filch from me, or dare withhold 

The Godlike love that saw the plight 
Of that poor worm with thoughts that lie 

Beneath the surface fount of tears, 
And questionings that reach and pry 

Into the land beyond our years. 



157 



REST BLAME 

When the storm cloud breaks and the winter 
howls, 
Will you flee as the east from the west? 
When your brother stands face to face with 
scowls, 
Can you pity tho' others detest ? 

True as truth he may have been hast'ning 
on 
To his dark certain doom with zest — 
Have you felt their slime as the serpents 
fawn, 
And the pang as the fang deeper pressed? 

Do you think, my friend, it will help him rise 
If you join in the jeer and the jest, 

If you join with the mob — the overwise? 
Let your pity your wisdom attest. 

To his dreams at night come the old-time 
friends 

Who are welcome as angels, — as blest; 
And they kindly smile, tho' the vision ends, 

Who with pity the world would invest. 

And tho' thorns have covered their graves so 
long, 
In his dreams there the brightest and best 
Of earth's flowers bloom, and the birds make 
song, 
For they pity and let the blame rest. 
158 



And the clover blooms, and its breath comes 
back, 
And the lark rises high o'er her nest, 
And the old forms move in the same old 
track 
And their pity would hide the blame pest. 

He recalls the words of the former days — 
But his promises failed in the test, 

And forget-me-nots in the noon's hot blaze 
Droop for pity, but blame may now rest. 

And he fain would draw back the early years 
Ere he dropped changeless gold in the 
quest 
Of all that he found not, tho' sought with 
tears, — 
Pity vanished, but blame found no rest. 

So the light dies down, and the dream is past, 
And he wakes with remorse for his guest. 

If your heart met his at this midnight hour 
Could your pity forbear blame's inquest? 

"Ah," you say, "this tale is not yours or 
mine:" 

Tis the secret of many a breast 
Where the wounded lie without oil or wine 

Crushed of blame, where no pity may rest. 

Do you see, my friend, how the palms wave 
high 

In the gold of the bright mountain's crest? 
We shall never reach it, nor you nor I, 

Till we pity and give blame a rest. 



159 



SAD AND GLAD 

Once I knew a little girl, — 
Not th' one et had a curl — 
But she'd talk an' act s' queer 
Folks 'u'd look an' stop t' hear, 
Till she'd say she didn't care 
(By her high up look an' air) 
If th' world 'u'd stand an' stare: 
But she did care, an' she'd cry 
When th' stars w's in th' sky 
'Cause they'd look as if they'd sigh 
An' be sorry she felt sad: 
Nen she'd wish she never had 
Lived, er 'at she ist c'u'd die — 
An' there 'niong th' stars on high, 
If she'd listen, she c'u'd hear 
Voices seem t' say, "My dear, 
Don't remember ner don't fear 
What folks think er say ; I know 
They forgot you hours ago, 
For they all and all have so 
Many heavy loads to take 
Up an' carry. When you wake 
Up at night, like this, you best 
Try their loads once, an' nen rest 
An' be glad 'at you don't know 
All th' troubles 'at they know: 
Nen you see if you can't show 
Them you care; er, maybe, bring 
Joy t' some, er take th' sting 
From some heart an' make it sing 
Glad songs once again." An' nen 
This wee maid said, "If I can 
I ist will." — An' when she had 
She w's glad, an' glad, an' GLAD. 

160 



Men sometimes when folks 'u'd go 
Long es if they didn't know 
Ner c'u'd see this little lass, 
Why, nen she 'u'd let 'em pass, 
An' pretend she didn't see — 
'Cause they didn't, ner w'd she — 
She'd ist let 'em know she'd be 
Even with 'em — an' she was, 
But she w'sn't happy 'cause 
Star-time voices 'u'd say, "Does 
This way pay them best, or you 
That you must do like they do? 
I know you don't want to spite 
Anyone, or not do right; 
But you're fearing what they'd say 
Er be thinking if some day 
You'd be good an' sweet when they 
Wanted t' be bad and cross, — 
When they'd look for you t' toss 
Back your curls an' not t' pause 
Once, ner smile, ner look their way: 
But they're not s' proud an' gay 
Like you 'magined 'at they seemed, — 
'Cause I guess you never dreamed 
They w's thinkin' tho'ts 'at bring 
Heartaches 'at ist stay and 'cling 
Till they choke out everything 
Only ist what hurts, an' pride. — 
Now look at it on their side, 
An' nen see if you can't hide 
Your self-tho'ts so you can be 
Ist a gentle, real lady." — 
So she did, an' when she had 
She w's glad, an' glad, an' GLAD. 



161 



LAST MONTH OF SCHOOL 
1918 

Tis May, the last month of the spring and 

best ; 
And Mother Earth is spreading- fresh and 

far 
Her fair green board, toward which her 

hungry brood 
Of children look, and stretch forth hands 

that war 
Has made blood-red, and wail, and bid her 

haste. 

This morning I began my last month's 
round — 
Started anew in the last month of nine 
That constitute the roll unwound : — 
A year of school within a school in which 
I teach, and have been taught more than 
the rest 
Of little learners whose fair angels look 
Upon the face of God. My angel blest 
Among them stands, and pleads, still pleads 
for me : — 
Within my spirit I discern her voice; 
She bids me nightly crave at heaven's hand 

No greater benefit than her own choice 
Of happiness restored and blight removed, 
On earth as there above, in God's world- 
fane, 
The sweet child-heart I may have wronged, 
for yet 

162 



In petulance and malice I remain 
And to the end shall be a child. How fast 

The day ran on: — At morning I awoke 
And met its smile, and with it passed along — 

Again I woke, and night around me broke. 

Monday 

The morning ride, as usual, 

Was cool and bracing. Fair and bright 

The sky and atmosphere, and light 

The spirit of the moment seemed. 

Within my room I found a book 

Whose torn, disheveled leaves I took 

And placed in order, so once more 

The child might glean its printed lore, 

Nor ponder o'er the melancholy 

Puzzle he wrought through youthful folly. — 

And so may God my life's book take, 

And make it read, for His dear sake, 

As first it read when it was given, — 

A simple line on line from heaven — 

A story he who runs may read, 

Nor curse because his lawless breed, 

Or he himself, not God, has soiled, 

Shuffled and torn the leaves, and spoiled 

The story and made of the song 

A dark enigma. Thus may wrong 

Be righted for myself and mine 

By hands unseen, unknown, Divine. 

This first task done, some pictures bright, 

Yet bent and dusty met my sight — 

Pictures of birds whose names we learned, 

And of their ways, and how and where 

They dwell, and find their bounteous fare : 

I straightened these, and made them clean, 

Just as they ever should be seen. — 

163 



And if the children live to grow 

To womanhood and manhood, may 

The vision of these pictures stay 

The fowler's hand, and lead them back 

Along* life's spring-time, bird-song track 

I think, sometime we may awake 

And find that Heaven has come to take 

The dust from off earth-scenes, and show 

How earth might have been heaven below, — 

For then, as heaven earth shall be, 

And we shall know, and we shall see. 

Ah well, my tasks are manifold 

And many more than can be told, 

Nor can they all be paid in gold. 

But by and by the bell rings out, 

The children cease to writhe and shout. — 

Mine are the little ones, — a score — 

Sometimes less and sometimes more — 

All mine, at least, march in my door. — 

I should have had a score and ten, 

But many a vile disease has vied 

To spoil my record, nag my pride: 

'Twas measles and 'twas whooping" cough, 

And scarletina turned them off: 

Then mumps made faces with a grin 

That frightened my poor lambs again. 

But dear, 'twas mainly just a joke! 

None of them died, or seldom cried 

Under the tricky lightsome yoke: — 

Just an excuse as poor as mean 

To keep the babes in quarantine. 

Now while they settle down to fold 

Their tiny hands before I scold, 

I bid my roller organ old 

Ring out, in accents clear and bold, 

"America", or some such hymn, 

Shrieked out in vigorous, loyal vim. 

164 



And then we sing some simple song 

That sweeps the singer's soul along 

And bids it seek the better part, — 

A lowly and obedient heart. 

I know too well they only rule 

Safely who first, in life's wide school, 

Have learned obedience where the lash 

Fell over many a festered gash. 

And yet 'tis not the Master's hand 

That teaches thus. The truant child 

Received his strokes in devious, wild 

And thorny ways; but he who strays, 

I hold, shall sometime seek release 

In the great Master's school of peace, 

And find the tender smile and light 

That heals the wound, and scatters night. 

A story I must also read: 

This time 'tis of a raven black, 

A pet who heard the ducklings quack, 

And watched them in a swimming pool 

Amused, then, like a playful fool, 

He seeks a flock of downy chicks, 

Innocent of raven's tricks, 

And flaps his great black wings to urge 

Them on, and even o'er the verge 

Of that great pool. They cannot swim, 

But only drown to amuse him. 

I hope this tale, in later years, 

Again may sound in the learners' ears 

And teach them to escape the black 

Strong wings: for chickens have a knack 

For scratching earth; but cannot well 

Contented in deep waters dwell. 

And now my first grade honies read 

Of Jack and Jill, and give strict heed 

To that threadbare tale ever new 

As little children always do. 

165 



My second grade review again 

The book they read before three more 

Good supplementary readers' lore 

Engaged their time. Now the largest boy 

Within the grade has softly laid 

His head upon the desk to annoy 

My spirit? — No! ah, no! the scamp 

Is suffering from a stomach cramp, 

He says, — but how great his need 

To read and read and read and read — 

And so he shall when the others go 

Tonight, and leave me free — No, no! 

No one is free that freedom seeks 

Where stagnant pools' malaria reeks: 

And I must work, and work, and wait; 

Nor know the result till heaven's gate 

That opens to eternal day 

Shall be swung wide for aye and aye — 

'Twill take eternity to tell 

Who taught amiss, and who taught well. 

Today we trained our muscles too — 

Dear, dear and how shall I relate 

All of the day's events nor prate 

Of them when I should be asleep, 

And so, good-night, — may angels keep. 

Tuesday 

Today is like all others, good 
For toil and play, and all one should 
Ask or expect of One who gives 
All things to every man that lives. 
This morning's tale is of the child 
That, lost upon the untrod wild, 
Wails loudly for his parent dear 
Who, far away, with many a tear 
Is seeking him, and how a light 
166 



Appears as his father clothed in white; 

And kisses him, and leads him on 

Till desert sands and night are gone — 

Till past the night, his mother mild 

Weeping receives her weeping child. 

Four of my second grade girls read 

An extra lesson we enjoy 

While resting study-weary eye 

And brain: then all of us may spell, 

Or drill upon the words 'tis well 

To memorize in form and face 

Lest they should bring us to disgrace 

When the reading test has been applied, 

And they our acquaintance have denied. 

One of our four girls read today 

How all of baby's heaven lies 

In the light of mother's eyes. — 

O mothers, could not this light wake 

A ten-fold radiance should you slake 

Your thirst at heav'ns fount, and gain 

Release from worldly care and pain? 

And could not I see heaven above 

In the Almighty Light of Love, 

And then reflect here what I see 

More fully and more frequently 

Upon these tender ones and wee? 

Often I need wisdom more, 

Than all the worrying, scurrying score 

Of mothers whose dear children here 

Flock round me from both far and near. 

And how pleased and proud I am 

When oft some sweet, forgetful lamb, 

In thinking of me as his dam, 

Addresses me as such: — "Mamma", 

Or even when it's been "Papa". 

yes, I had forgot till now 

About this morning's story, how 

.167 



A man who owned a residence 
Spacious and grand beyond pretense 
Was often heard to speak of it 
As his "smoke house". When questioned why 
This appellation, he'd reply 
That he ceased smoking some years since, 
And daily laid by the expense 
Not spent, — the price that he had paid 
For a habit that had but betrayed 
His better self. After some years 
Of freedom from the weed that sears 
Body and mind, his hoard was such 
It reared the walls of this palace, much 
To his surprise, and of his friends 
The marvel : Thus the story ends. 
And we had company today 
When we were writing the best way 
That any of us knew about, — 
Holding our fingers stiff and stout — 
At least I hope the children did 
Not wiggle their dear fingers small 
Out of my sight much, if at all. — 
They try to do as they are bid; 
But habit is an irksome chain 
That binds the free, oft times, again: 
And the child's great wish, to use his fingers, 
Ever about through childhood lingers. 
Our writing was at least well done — 
"They say" so, and I am the one 
Who knows they know. 
Our writing put 

Aside, we seek to give the foot 
Due exercise as well as the hand; 
And on our feet we rise and stand. — 
We fly from home, we seek the show 
As round the rows of desks we go. 
168 



We see a tiger in his cage 

Weave to and fro in helpless rage: 

We bend and twist and turn as he ; 

And then the prairie dogs we see — 

We look about us as they do, 

Or dance as big brown bears a few 

Times round and round. The monkies next 

Are with our cunning apings vexed: 

We throw them peanuts, then inflate 

Our empty bags at the same rate 

We fill our lungs, though alternate, 

We clap our hands, we hear them break 

With thunder sound and mental quake. 

And then, perhaps the man that walks 

The tight rope next our shamming mocks :— 

no, we walk and balance, too, 

As well as all performers do. — 

We are the band, the elephant, 

The kangaroo, the giraffe gaunt 

Of neck and limb, — why should not we 

Also the gay show ponies be? 

And so we gallop, walk and trot 

And leap and caper and what not, — 

Till, tired at last, we come back home 

From these dear desks no more to roam. 

0, surely I forgot to say 

What was our written work today : 

U, V and W were the letters 

That held us in their lawful fetters 

For lawful script kinship they claim 

In form and face, if not in name: 

And so they made for us a title 

Imposing, capital and vital : — 

Useless Vain Wail, — this was their tale, 

Or 'twas as good, — Vain Useless Wail. — 

Ah yes, this frequently is true,— 

A wail cannot save me or you, 

169 



Or right the past, or gain a joy; 
But it stills the voice, and blinds the eye. 
And yet, how vividly I see 
A scene where wails can never be 
Useless or vain: — The scene is this, — 
A helpless babe has been thrown out 
Of his basket bed by a midnight rout 
Of little hounds,— on his hands and knees. 
His wails are not useless, for in these 
Lie the only cure for his disease. 
The hounds will soon see him bereft 
Of what little clothing he has left. 
His bottle they have spilled, in haste 
To lap his milk that none may waste. 
One small black fiend has on his tongue 
The rubber mouth piece, duly wrung 
From out the bottle, — useless quite, 
But to draw wind, or to hold and lute — 
While he stands by the hooting child, 
His two fore paws, in counsel mild, 
Placed on his back to hold him down: 
Aye, howl and rave, dear little clown, — 
Your mother comes to avenge her child — 
She hears your desperate wailing wild. — 
Twas thus our writing and our play 
Took up the last hours of the day. 

Wednesday 

The children, first, seemed to enjoy 
Singing, "Where is my Wandering Boy 
Tonight?" — and so I think it best 
To tell a story to add zest 
To zeal in a good cause: — 
A tale of one who gained applause 
From all who heard, as a singer fair 
Whose sympathy and feeling rare 

L70 



Swept from the singer to the throng 

That greeted her; and she was, too, 

The mr ther of a son that few 

Would care to own, — a prodigal 

Who, without hope, despised by all, 

Abandoned friends and home and pride, 

And left his own fair mother's side. 

One evening she was asked to sing 

About her "wandering boy", to bring 

A truth more forcefully than word 

Alone can tell to those who heard 

Her sore heart plead its agony. 

She sang: Her boy was near, and knew 

His mother's voice and her sorrow, too. 

His heart was touched, but his mind was 

blurred, 
Confused as one who in sleep heard, 
And knew not where he was, yet knew 
His peril, and the curse he'd placed 
On one he loved much, and disgraced 
Yet more. So, when the song was done, 
To his mother's heart the weeping son 
Rushes, as one in mortal fear 
Of losing what is as heaven dear, 
Crying, — "Here, mother, — I am here." 
And after this, the story goes, 
This young man turned from drink, and chose 
To exert his manhood's God-given might 
To down the wrong, and exalt the right. 
A strength that strives and cannot fall 
Enabled him to escape the thrall 
Of vice, and batter down its wall. 
Today we leam about the head 
Of the animal kingdom, reared and fed 
Like other animals, yet king, 
Ruler and lord, being possessed 
Of spirit nobler than the rest: 

171 



Enabled thus to laugh and weep; 

And alone the image of God to keep. 

The children thought it strange to be 

A fruitage of the animal tree. 

The hand and foot was what today 

We talked of in a special way: 

Comparing every similar bone, 

And their dissimilar use as shown 

In every task we undertake. 

The hand for foot none may mistake : 

Nor may one to the other say, 

"I have no need of you today." 

Nor can the possessor part with one 

Member, and not be thus undone. 

And 0, 't-would take a day and night 

To tell the tale, and tell it right, 

Of this mild, uneventful day — 

I'll cut it short now, right away. 

But I must tell before I go 

To rest the fable of the crow 

The children read today, you know: — 

That crow with a piece of carrion dear 

In his beak, who flapped to a tree near, 

Out of Sir Reynard's reach, for fear 

The fox would snatch it. Mr. Crow 

Was safe, but his crafty foe, 

Awakening pride within the heart 

Of this poor crow through flattery's art, 

Induced him to let drop his meat 

To show the fox how very sweet 

The song he sang. Nor crow nor man 

Was ever vanquished, nor yet can 

Defeated be till the enemy 

Within responds to that without. — 

Without the artificial touch 

Of example, moral, and all such. 

I hope the children learned this much 

172 



They felt, instinctively, no doubt, 
A pity for the self -betrayed 
Creature who, 'gainst himself arrayed, 
Could thus his foe effectually aid. 

Thursday 

What mortal woman ever could 

Teach a full day well as she should, 

And then, at evening, find the time 

For breath enough to make a rhyme. 

And, to be very frank with you, 

And tell the truth, as I always do — 

Distasteful truth that will not mix 

With sweetened water, white lie tricks — ■ 

To tell the truth, this Thursday now 

Is more than four weeks past, and how 

W r e spent its hours I cannot tell 

Exactly, as my notes that dwell 

Upon the happenings of the day 

Are lost, or hidden anyway. 

Perhaps we sang of how God's love 

Is showered from the sky above 

Upon the sparrow and the flower 

That soon have spent their morning hour ; 

And how, because all small things share 

His tender thought, and special care, 

He loves his little children too. 

Then our morning's talk or tale we drew, 

Perhaps, from what we sang about: 

Of quarrelsome little sparrows fed 

From God's great storehouse; drink and 

bread 
Who find in wayside brook or spring, 
And wayside weed, — a noxious thing. 
And then, perhaps, the weest lot 
Of kiddies read of Tom, and what 

173 



Tom, Tom, the piper's funny son 
Did that should make him wish to run, 
As they now wish to do, — so one 
Plays he is Tom, — one is the pig, 
And one the piper with his big 
Stick after foolish little Tom, 
Who thereby gains a lesson from 
His folly. 

Then the second grade, 
After a rest, attractive made 
By nature tale, or spelling game, 
Read their good lesson, just the same 
As yesterday and every day. 
And then, I know, we had some play, 
Just as each day, this hour, we do 
When we skip round the desks, to view 
The country, pick its flowers, and swing, 
Or roll a hoop, or bounce or fling 
A soft ball down or up, or wing 
The air like different birds we see, 
Or swing our limbs round like a tree, — 
Or several other pleasurable things 
Our visit to the country brings 
Within our reach. 

Maybe we go 
Into the woods, as to and fro 
We swing the ax to chop down trees, 
Or moan and whistle in the breeze 
As trees do, or in many ways 
Draw from the woods our mimic plays. 
Perhaps one of a dozen songs 
That to our daily plan belongs, 
Or other exercises meet 
Engaged our voices and our feet, — 
Our all from top to toe complete. 
But, when we hop, or skip, or prance, 
I have a care that, without chance, 

174 



Boys always take boys' company : 

That girls as partners, too, shall be. 

In later years these girls and boys 

Can better meet the world's decoys, 

And bid defiance, not in vain, 

To dark delusion's fulsome train: 

When, with maturer minds, they dwell 

On His ways who made all things well: 

When they can realize the sum 

Of beauty in all things that come 

As life from life, as joy from health, 

Not painful death from guilty stealth. 

When Heaven into their lives shall pour 

Its love that murmurs, "Thirst no more,"- 

A love that reaches down, and takes 

The venom from life's fount, and wakes 

Sweet thirst for joy it freely slakes. 

After our play, we doubtless had 

A drill in numbers, good or bad, 

As we have made such drills a part 

Of number mind and number heart 

Before. My heart would not engage 

In number drills at any age : 

And so I try, as best I can, 

By every known, and unique plan, 

To put life, interest, and zest 

Into what seems to me, at best, 

A dull, dumb, dead, unlovely quest. 

And then we wrote on our blackboard 

The best our fingers could afford. 

After recess we studied more 

Of deathless number's dingy lore, — 

All illustrated, and made plain 

By chalk and talk, and every sane 

And insane antic men devise 

To pass truth to the brain through eyes. 



175 



And ears and hand and every sense 
We own as a servant and defense. 
And then I know, the afternoon 
Passed much the same, and none too soon 
For two toil-weary, oppressed feet 
And a! out forty more that beat 
Gladly the playward, welcome street. 

Friday 

Last night I heard, with more or less 

Indifference, I must confess, 

That the whole school, in parade dress, 

And best, should appear today, for we 

Might expect a photographer to be 

Present to take us as we were, — 

And so we dressed to make a stir — 

So did the sky, and therefore we, 

Although in highest company, 

Were disappointed, for the breeze 

Brought clouds and shadows: — those and 

these 
Made our dear artist think 'twould please 
Himself and us to stay away 
And have us pose some brighter day. 
'Twas of the wind we sang and read. 
And Tom and Harry, Dick and Ned 
Ran round with streaming hair outside, 
Hailing with joy the winds that ride 
Above and through and all around 
Whatever in their course is found. — 
Unseen, yet of resistless charm: 
So strong, yet without voice or arm. 
I never have been able yet, 
In speaking with myself, to get 
The idea to myself defined 
With satisfaction to my mind, — • 

176 



About this blowing, lifting thing 

That floats you upward on its wing 

Above the sense of sight and sound, 

And feelings you left with the ground. 

At least it always treats me so 

When I can spare the time to go 

Abroad when winds are blowing free, 

And rise and shift and soar, and be 

One with the atmosphere of might 

That sweeps around our earthly night. 

But none need go aside to pry 

Into the scenes that mystify, 

And close and seal the material eye. 

Tell me what power controls the brain 

That rules the world, yet may be lain 

Low in the dust, — for the brain is still 

Intact as when it served the will 

Of unknown life, when life is fled, 

And it lies dormant dust, and dead. 

What, then, is life — the life that now 

Is one with that to be, and how 

Did life exist, and how yet may 

It exist apart from menial clay ? 

The story that one read to rest 

Her class before the reading test, 

Was of a loving pussy fair 

Who had been given a bounteous share 

Of milk, and such cat-relished food 

By her mistress kind and good; 

And so this grateful, generous cat 

Brought, in return for this and that, 

One day a luscious, juicy, fat 

Fresh mouse. She sprang upon a chair 

Beside the dinner table where 

Her mistress ate, and laid it down 

Right on her plate ! — O do not frown, 



177 



For this was all a cat could do 

To show her heart was straight and true. 

Today we had a wee wild rabbit 

To discuss, for it has been our habit 

To study nature as we may 

In every near and remote way. 

Our big" boy brought it in his cap 

In which it seemed to couch and nap, 

But when a sunny-headed girl 

Disturbed its rest, with a bound and whirl 

It scampered all about the room 

Till caught, and placed within its tomb: — 

The cap above, below, the sand, 

And darkness round on every hand. 

The Last 

You see, I found the time to teach 

Three weeks more of five days each, 

But did not note in common speech 

The doings of each passing day 

That now has vanished far away. 

Monday, the first now unrecorded, 

The well-dressed children were rewarded 

For their faith and pains, — the camera took 

A fair, plain photo, — made them look 

Just as they did. — Alas for me 

So faithless that I wore some shoes 

A mile too long, and had the blues 

Because my whole accoutrement 

Was for the camera's gaze not meant, 

But there I stand in black and white, 

Just as I was, and yet all right — 

Good as myself, best out of sight. 

How grand 'twould be if we had the power 

To see as others see each hour, — 



178 



At least to grasp, in some degree, 

A vision of ourselves and see 

As others the unnatural ways, 

Least childlike each that poorest pays: 

Though who would not discard the fret 

And storm of childhood, yet forget 

As children do each past regret. 

And so I too, would do as they 

Who gladly leave the past schoolday 

In the past, and run and leap and play. 

Yes, they pass on, and none remained 

In last year's grade surely retained, 

But one. A good half dozen more 

Will be on trial a month before 

They demonstrate what they can do, 

To their next year's teacher fair and new. — 

Not too new I shall trust, to see 

The promise of what each may be 

If tutored well. Last year these could 

Have done fair work, and all made good, 

I judge, if the growing quarantine, 

Had not shut them up in pastures green. 

Well, the last day we had ice cream, 

And things that are not what they seem: 

Had relay races, and some songs, 

And games, and what not, and some wrongs 

Not great, no,— you'd call them slight— 

I'd like to undo those wrongs tonight. 

Next year these boys that soar and dream 

When not pinned down with attention's beam 

To the daily round— how will they fare:— 

The better, or worse for the free, wild air 

In the sky where they fly if the teacher dear 

Does not see fit to call them here 

To earth? 

Dear, dear! I often thought 
It I saw the dream, and all it brought 
179 



Of good or ill to the virgin soil 

From which all reap when the harvest toil 

Reveals the seed : — if I only knew 

The dream, and the dreamer's honest due; 

And, if well, could grant the vision's gift 

Of light and joy, whose strong wings lift 

The feet from quicksands and from mire. 

None may escape who pass this way 

Except these broad wings lift them higher 

Than heavy, low, enslaving clay. 

I dream, and God grant some day 

The dream comes true, and that I may 

Grasp what He holds beyond, above, 

In truest, kindest care and love. 



180 



A DREAM- VOICE 

My dream was June-day morning 

Of glad and rosy light ; 
Fair breezes from the highlands 

Breathed not of coming night ; 
And I no longer waited 

The happy hours to be 
For lo, the breath of morning 

Brought all my own to me. 
Sweet flow'rs and golden-hearted 

Old fields of sorrow filled, — 
The thornless rose forever, — 

And all the heartache stilled. 
But dreams of night must waver 

And fail in light alway ; 
Yet ere my dream had fled me 

I heard a clear voice say : 
"Lo, I am more and better 

Than this thy dream appears; 
Lo, I am more and stronger 

Than all thy toils and fears. 
glad or weary-hearted, 

Give all thy heart to Me, 
So shall thy dream departed 

Be found of life and thee." 



181 



LUKEWARM 

I've seen some folks and so have you 
That never stooped to make ado 
For anything, if false or true; 
They seem to say by mild and grand 
Indifference on every hand 
That stamps them as the "classy" brand, — 
"I'm not interested." 

And then sometimes they'll say right out 
If you begin to talk about 
Something as plain as sauerkraut 
That they don't seem to want to know 
Because the rabble don't say so, 
And they must go where big-bugs go, — 
"I'm not interested." 

Dear me, they just want you to see 
How very knowing they can be 
Knowing so little, — feeling free 
To slight and mock at lowly things 
As high above their tho't as wings 
Of angels over earthly things: — 
"I'm not interested." 

Of course there are such things that seem 
More interesting than you'd dream 
That others could. One like a beam, 
One but a mote; — Like it might be 
If you should stand beside the sea, 
And see a ship go down, Dear me ! — 
You'd be interested. 

That would be dreadful ! And suppose 
Your little boy should stub his toes, 
Or tumble on his pretty nose 

182 



Just right at the same time, you know, 
Why you'd just have to let him go, 
And say, "My boy, I love you so, 
And I'm interested! 

"But, then, you see, if I can save 
A life out yonder from the grave 
Deep in the sea, I must be brave 
And interest myself just now 
In saving men, and I'll see how 
Your sweet wee nose feels soon. There now, 
Don't cry! I'm interested! 

"And I should like to kiss you boy, 
So never mind, Don't cry! Don't cry!" 
Now that's the way that you or I 
Should talk, and that's the way 
That we should feel tho' others may 
Go on their icy, maudlin way, 
All uninterested. 

It's just this shallow lukewarmness 
That's going to bring them to distress 
If folks hang to it more or less. 
I tell you, that's the reason why 
This land that's going sick and dry 
Lifts to the heav'ns of brass it's cry, 
For it's interested. 

And God will hear. He said of old 
"I would that ye were hot or cold." 
They'll find it come as they were told 
Long time ago, that God will spew 
Them out, and this old earth will too, 
And get a mighty different crew 
Some more interested. 



183 



WHAT JOHNNIE'S TEACHER THOUGHT. 

He'd been so bad, my Johnnie had, 

When he went out to play, — 
The wee fair boy, with heaven-blue eye — 

How bad I may not say. 

I cannot well or surely tell 

Because I did not see 
The deed that brought the blush I caught 

On cheek and brow so wee. 

I spoke no word that Johnnie heard, 

I felt so sick at heart, 
With calm despair into my chair 

I sank, and mused apart. 

The children here from far and near 

Were trusted to my care: 
Had I forgot one hour the thought 

Of many an open snare? 

My Johnnie's keen eyes soon had seen, 
He knew what caused my plight. 

Why did he stay when, in their play, 
The rest had taken flight? 

He seemed that day best pleased to stay 
(I thought it strange) with me. 

His earnest face spoke no disgrace, 
But looked so good and free. 

He came next day soon from his play ; 

A bunch of small white flowers 
Was in his hand, play-tired and tanned, 

So brown from hot sun showers. 

184 



I thought that night how many a wight 
Heart-crushed, and stained with crime 

Might lift true eyes to God's blue skies 
If such had known sometime 

His heart that bleeds for foul misdeeds, 

That longs to break their ban, 
Instead of trite cursing and spite 

From out the heart of man. 

We seldom see the wrongs that we 

Condemn in other lives; 
But we know none share in evil where 

No evil comes nor strives. 

How can we blame the weak and lame 

Nor once regard the snare 
That none may break but star-flowers wake, 

And blossom everywhere. 



185 



MY RECORD AND REQUEST 

The day was passing for the sun had set; 

And all tomorrow's lessons, still unlearned, 
Were in closed books, held in a room where 

yet 
A locked door shut them in ; and grim regret 
Her desolate, deadly gaze upon me turned. 
Thus, after many a sealed tomorrow 
spurned, 
I can but say when my last sun has set, — 
Again, dear Master, I have laid aside 

The tools wherewith my imagery was 
wrought ; 
And much is incomplete, much crude, much 
void 
That earth showed fair in word and deed 
and thought: 
And yet myself I bring: — may I still 
In angel architecture work Thy will. 



JS6 







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